


Aphrodisiac

by GhostHand



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Blood and Torture, Fade to Black, I have no idea what I'm doing here, M/M, Masturbation, Torture, semi-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostHand/pseuds/GhostHand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>/noun/: Something, such as a drug or food, arousing or intensifying sexual desire. - A simple mistake leads to a night of passion. But in the aftermath Malik denies everything and Altaïr, with unknown motives, insists otherwise. The infamous enemies hit a bump in their friendship, one that could bring them closer or tear them apart. AltXMal, potentially a bit of OOCness thanks to me not completing the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drugged

**Author's Note:**

> Big shout out to my helpful put-up-with-my-indecisive-ass/consultant RainbowSkittles!  
> I'm hoping to be able to finish it! It would be my first complete multi-chapter. Also, my apologies for any mistakes; I didn't do research beyond what I've already heard/read and a little bit of imagination. Not to mention I don't really play my AC, and friends only let me ride around on the horses 'cuz I always attract wayyyy too many guards and die so I'm not allowed to do missions. TwT  
> This is a bit of an AU world where Al Mualim did not betray the Order, but Altaïr still lost his rank many months before this fic takes place. He has since regained it. Just... roll with it, okay? ;w;

Altaïr set the bundle on the counter and shoved it forward. I raised an eyebrow. "What is this?"

"Lunch." Altaïr smirked. "A harlot gave this to me, saying she sees me pass by often. She thought I looked too busy to be eating well or something like that."

I rolled my eyes. "Come to brag about your way with women, then? Do you not have work to do, novice?"

He chuckled, leaning his hip against my counter like he owned it and crossing his arms. "I do. Which is why I came by to drop this off. I can't have this in the way while I run around."

I was about to tell him off about using my bureau to store his things and order him to carry his own belongings without complaint, but he quickly straightened and began walking away. "I'll return quickly, do not worry. Help yourself, if you'd like." Then he was gone.

I frowned deeply and glared at the parcel. It could be rigged or poisoned for all he knew, but the idiot took it anyway and thoughtfully dropped it in my lap. He truly was a novice. Cautiously I unwrapped the cheap cloth. No traps were triggered. Inside were a bread roll, some nuts, and a decanter. Thorough investigation showed no signs of poison in the food. I unstopped the decanter and sniffed. It was just goat's milk.

"Hm. So it truly was an innocent gift?" I shook my head and scoffed. "Then again, from a harlot, there probably isn't anything innocent about it. That oaf is just too thick to accept it that way, if he even realized it." Angry and bitter, as my mood usually is when Altaïr is involved, I rewrapped the gift and went to put it in the back.

Once beyond the curtain, however, I paused. Why should I do as he asks? I was not his mother, putting away his food. I looked down at the bundle in my hand and debated tossing it to the birds, or maybe giving it to a random street urchin. Neither was worth the bother though, and both were rather childish, so I took up his offer and dug into his lunch.

* * *

Sometime later that day I heard the soft thump of an assassin landing by the fountain. My heart raced even more than it was already and I silently willed for whoever it was to go away. I was not ready to deal with anyone yet. But then I heard them walk into the archive area and call out the usual greeting.

"Safety and peace, Malik." It was Altaïr.

I forced myself to my feet and stumbled to the doorway. It took longer than it should have, and I had to pause to brace myself against the wall.

"Malik? Are you hiding or ignoring me?"

That irritating no good… I gritted my teeth and threw back the partitioning curtain. Altaïr blinked. "Oh. There you are, brother. You do not look we-"

"You son of a whore! Allah damn you, you stupid novice!"

He held up his hands, confused but calm. "What fault did I commit to upset you this time?"

I maneuvered my way forward, gripping the edge of the counter to steady myself. "You and that damn thick head of yours! What kind of assassin accepts gifts from strangers? Anyone, for that matter! Children have more sense not to then you!"

Though his face was half hidden, his surprise was obvious. At least, to those who knew him, as it could be difficult to discern any emotion from his now usual stoic attitude. "You ate the lunch I brought you?"

If I could glare daggers, he would be dead ten times over. "Yes, you buffoon! Did you think I would honestly sit here with an empty stomach and not? That prostitute slipped something in it, though. Now I end up the one drugged instead of you!"

Altaïr leaned forward. "Shit. What about the immunities?" he asked, speaking of the building up of resistances to several poisons required during training. It was a process that, while dangerous, saved many assassin lives.

I shook my head. "Obviously it's not one of those, or else I would be feeling fine, idiot."

He clenched his hands. "Do you know what it is, then? Or if there is anything I can do?"

I already had a pretty good idea what the substance was; it wasn't deadly, but I would not dare share what I suspected with anyone if I could help it. I grabbed his collar roughly. "You wish to help? Leave. I will be fine in time, but not with you here."

He frowned. "Peace. I am only trying to make up for my mistake. Is that not part of what you've been telling me to do?"

I grimaced. That was true. But at the moment my anger was being ebbed away by something more powerful and it as getting harder to think straight. His presence was not helping matters. If I could be left alone for the rest of the day I could possibly ride out the drug without mishap.

"Yes. And you may make it up to me by getting out of my sight and far away from my bureau. Take a mission for a few days if you must. Just go."

The old Altaïr would have snapped and stormed off, even thrown a punch in for good measure. But damn if he wasn't paying attention to all the advice I'd been giving him. His mouth settled into a line and I knew he could tell something was amiss. He lifted a hand to my forehead and I flinched back. "You are not well. You have a fever. I think it best you lie down." He swung his legs over the countertop and I started to panic.

"No. I am fine. I can take care of myself, novice." I pushed on him in a weak attempt to stop his advance. He grabbed my wrist and pried my fingers from his cowl. Like taking care of someone fragile he nudged me toward the back room.

I planted my feet and twisted around, freeing my wrist. "I am not some child in your keep! For the last time, leave me be!"

I aimed for his head. He dodged and went to punch back. I followed past his arm and landed a blow to his back. He just as easily, if more gracefully, turned and blocked a second attack by grabbing my fist. He used the opening to push his arm against my chest and slam me into the bookcase, locking me in place with his leg and forearm.

The drug had me huffing from just that short exertion and my cheeks were hot. I stared fiercely at the man pinning me.

"Will you calm down? It is not a good idea to work yourself up like this. Is it not natural to assist a friend who is sick? I am not trying to make you upset, honestly. Yet it seems everything I do has the opposite effect!" He sighed and bowed his head against my shoulder. The anger was almost gone from me. His concern was indeed touching, but I couldn't let my guard drop at the moment. I was hyper-aware of the pressure holding me in place, the trapped helplessness, and his body awfully close to mine.

"Please Malik? Just… let me do  _something_. It is my fault after all. I hate seeing you like this." His breath against my ear forced me to close my eyes and focus on steeling my will.

"Altaïr. I understand. But if you do not back away, I cannot guarantee what will happen to either of us. I do not wish to do something I may regret."

He turned his head at his name, confused. Since I didn't call him a novice I knew he realized how serious I was. "What do you mean?" he asked lowly.

This time he was tickling my neck with his words in a way that felt intimate to my sensitive skin. I couldn't help it when I squirmed and accidentally rubbed against his leg. I barely managed to stifle the noise of desperation wanting to escape me and faced away in shame. The damage had been done; he was bound to have felt the stiffness there, even through the layers of cloth. I imagined the shift in expression as he pieced together what it was, combined with the fever and weakness, and why I was desperate for him to leave. It was almost laughable.

Altaïr was quiet. "So… that food…"

I swallowed. "…Was drugged with an aphrodisiac, yes. She wanted you to sleep with her and figured an aphrodisiac was the way to do it. Now do you mind leaving me alone?"

The annoyance that was Altaïr did nothing of the sort. He merely paused a beat before whispering. "So, if I do this, you will…" He trailed off as he leaned further in to catch my earlobe between his teeth.

My eyes snapped open. "Stop that." He nibbled and I bit my lip. "I said stop." He added his tongue. "You bastard…" I tried to crane my head away, which in hindsight was a stupid move. I was about to shout and attempt to slap him, but then he assaulted my neck with his mouth, working his way up to my jaw in a wet line and sending a tremor down my spine. "What do you think you are doing?" I hissed as harshly as I could.

"What does it look like? I am teasing you," he murmured against my jugular. "It is highly amusing how easily you react. Normally I'd have to do much more to get you this riled up."

I struggled to find words, caught between flaring anger and raging hormones. In the end I made another feeble attempt to free myself and settled on what I knew best: threats and insults. "Altaïr, you camel shit! If I wasn't so weakened by this damn drug the Brotherhood would be cleaning your corpse from my floor by now!"

I could feel him smile. "See? If I'd known aphrodisiacs would make you like this I'd have given you some long ago."

I paused. "You… Did you… do it on purpose? Allah damn it all. Did you give me the food knowing it was drugged? Was there even a prostitute to begin with!?" I was incredulous as he pressed his body closer to mine and I felt something foreign yet instantly recognizable prod my hip. It was not nearly as hard as mine, but it was insistent and effectively stopped my rant while causing my body to flush.

My fists clenched tighter as he spoke. "I should make this clear to you: I did not plan this." He raised his head so his face was mere centimeters from my own. "I am sorry for what I unintentionally did. I'm just seizing the opportunity that has arisen. What happens next is up to you; I can help you with this by relieving your pain, or I can leave you to burn out for hours, possibly days and I will make sure no one intrudes during that time."

That damn man had me trapped between a rock and a hard place- literally. I couldn't believe what he was offering. In fact I had to rerun his words through my head several times to make sure I understood him correctly. He definitely seemed to mean it. Nevermind the fact that he and I were both men, he was willing to go through with it, though for his own sake or mine I couldn't tell. He  _wanted_  to continue. The only thing holding him back was my decision.

Either I gave some kind of sign or my silence was too long to wait for an answer because the arm against my chest slowly slid to my hip. My breath sped up a fraction. His lips ghosted over mine, across my cheek, and down to my collarbone. My heartbeat pounded my ears, drowning out any objection and look, there were his hands, slowly unfastening my robes and working around me. When my remaining arm became free it simply dropped to my side as his mouth slid lower. I just left him to his work and let the drug take over, being consumed by both until my thoughts were nothing but heat and feeling.


	2. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik does not recall his lustful escapade in the morning, but a visit from Altaïr jogs a few memories and he is not happy about what he remembers...

Dust was drifting gently in the air above my head. Every movement I made stirred it, so I lay there, listening to the sound of myself breathe for a while. I was confused and groggy and sore, but I couldn't really remember why. Last night was a mess in my mind, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out how I even got to my bed of pillows and blankets that was set up in the back room of the bureau.

I rubbed my face and slowly sat up. The blankets shifted and I looked down. When the hell did I get undressed? Yawning, I rose with the blankets around my shoulders and searched for my personal chest.

Suddenly my foot caught on something. I regained my balance and saw I'd tripped on white cloth. Well, there was yesterday's clothes. I kicked them out of the way to wash later and rummaged around for clean ones. After dressing I shuffled out to my main station. My legs were aching as if I'd exercised for hours on end. The back of my head hurt as well, and when I rubbed it I felt a bump. Interesting.

The area behind my counter was a mess; books were off the shelf, papers on the floor, my inkwell was tipped, and several maps were crinkled. Between that and how bad I felt I figured there was a fight. One which I didn't remember, so I might have been unconscious.

I quickly scanned over my inventory to see if anything was missing. At first glance nothing was gone, just out of place, and I was about to check again but then I thought more on it. I'd woken up naked and in my pillows, covered by blankets. Why would a thief go through that trouble yet leave this room in disarray?

I shuffled around, tidying up. What exactly went on last night? There was clearly a struggle and someone who could get the best of me would not be an ordinary burglar. Popping my head out to the front room, I saw the grate securely in place. Nothing was disturbed. So whoever it was did not force their way in, which narrowed the suspects down to an assassin. That fact alone narrowed it down to the one assassin who would bother putting me to bed after a fight.

I sneered. Altaïr. I managed to drudge up some fuzzy memories of yesterday. He had come over with food from a prostitute, and I had eaten it and fallen ill. He must have taken advantage of my weakened state and landed a lucky shot. The next time I saw him he'd be getting an earful from me.

There was a knocking from the roof and a hooded head came into view. Speak of the devil.

"Malik. You're looking better. Mind if I come in?"

"I think I prefer you out there, thank you very much," I droned. Then I went back to the other room and resumed cleaning up.

"Why?" he called after me. "Are you  _still_  angry with me?"

I huffed. "How could I not be? You left my bureau a sty and my head is killing me thanks to you. Not to mention you practically poisoned yesterday."

"Well… I thought you were over that last one…" He sounded off. The guilt must've been creeping in. Good.

"No, novice. I'm not. I may have hit my head hard enough not to remember much of the previous evening, but I haven't forgotten that, nor am I letting it go any time soon."

Finally my cleaning was complete, aside from fixing the maps and getting new ink. I decided he had enough baking in the sun; it was time to yell at him face-to-face. I sauntered back to the main chamber.

"You don't remember last night?" he asked almost hesitantly as the grate as removed. Like a hawk landing on its prey he dropped down in front of me.

"No, I do not remember much. You must be happy about that. I do distinctly recall being slammed into a bookcase," I grumbled. He flinched. "Since I do not remember lecturing you on your stupidity yesterday, however, I am perfectly fine with doing so again."

Altaïr followed as I returned to straightening the maps. "Malik. Exactly how much do you remember?"

"Enough to figure out you, in your endless idiocy, decided to attack me. That's rather treasonous now that I think about it," I said, bored.

"I- what? I did not attack you. It was self-defense. You came after me," he accused.

I glared at him. "Why would I be lowly enough to throw the first blow? Did you say something so offensive?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as if he was frustrated with me-  _me_! "If you do not remember what the argument was about, then I will not remind you." Then he muttered "it would probably not be in my favor not to."

Altaïr trudged out to the fountains, and a moment later I heard the splashing of him washing up. I rubbed my neck in exasperation. The action caused me to wince; the flesh was tender there. Curious I fetched a mirror.

My neck and collarbone had unmistakable bruises on them. I frowned. Who would mark me as theirs? The only person I'd come in contact with the last couple of days was Altaïr, and surely he didn't…

It dawned on me that there is another reason for morning soreness. I remembered a feverish heat after eating the tampered food and then the feeling of being trapped and exposed. There was pressure from a man in assassin robes and his voice in my ear. The rest of the night flooded over me. Altaïr did not just fight with me.

"Altaïr." My voice wavered slightly from the revelation. I was clammy as I set the mirror down and gripped the edge of the counter. I faced the wall, my rigid back to the entrance of the main room. "Altaïr," I called a little louder.

"Yes, Malik?" I heard him come to the doorway, but I didn't turn around.

"Tell me, why did you come after me last night? When you learned it was an aphrodisiac I ingested, your behavior changed."

A pause. "So now you remember what transpired?"

"Just answer the question."

He shifted. "I told you why last night; I couldn't help myself. I was relieved to hear that I had not unintentionally fed you deadly poison, and resumed behaving as normal between us without worrying terribly about your well-being. But then seeing you act the way you were, with those noises you made at the lightest touch… I gave up simply teasing you. I held back as much as I could, but you kept wanting more."

I dug my nails into the wood. It was not common nor socially acceptable for two men to copulate with one another. Among assassins it was overlooked, since there were more important things to worry about, but that was not the point. "I find this hard to believe. It is more likely you took advantage of the drug and forced me-"

"I did no such thing!" He was loud and serious. "I would never do something like that against another's will. Perhaps the old Altaïr would have, but not me. I have changed; I have more sensibility and honor. You know this. You were the one to instill it in me."

I spun around. "Then why would you do that? You violate my trust. You could have simply helped me to my room, or left me alone as I requested. That besides, as an assassin you should have the willpower against any temptation."

He stepped closer. "Then you underestimate me when it comes to you. I have resisted, and I did, but despite that you still wanted it to happen. In case your selective memory has forgotten, I gave you a choice. I offered you release, told you that I could help you by staying or help you by leaving and you chose to have me there."

"I never said yes!"

"And you never said no! You said nothing. You could have stopped me at any time with just one word, but you didn't, Malik."

The silence was heavy in the air. I did not want to hear him speak anymore. The Altaïr I had slowly grown to forgive over these months and even build a tentative friendship with had ruined everything in one swift motion once more.

"Altaïr. You have betrayed my trust. You seduced me and even worse, shown that you have not grown as much as I'd thought. I may never forgive this."

His mouth set in a grim line as he chose his response carefully. "That is not the truth, Malik. You are willingly blinding yourself to the truth. I suppose you are the one that has not grown." He exited the chamber and stood atop a fountain, preparing to climb up.

"I will be leaving on a mission for a few days. Perhaps by the time I return you will have a clearer head." The assassin vanished, leaving no time for argument.


	3. Contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days tick by as Malik tries to sort out what happened and how he feels about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of RainbowSkittles, Malik's emotion is basically "OH, DEAR LORD. WE FUCKED. WE FUCKED, DIDN'T WE? SHIT, SHIT, SHIT." So this chapter is going to be a little bit different in that it's separated into the time he uses to processes this. She was also a HUGE help in writing this chapter in particular, so go give her some love! She's better at telling stories than I am! OTL

The bureau was silent. I collapsed onto the floor, all my energy drained from that exchange. My arm was aching from the deadlock I had on the counter so I released it. My fingertips were bleeding. Why had it come to this? My arguments felt petty by now. He had made a number of points, but could I really believe him?

It was true that I hadn't said anything- that much I remember. But that does not mean he could just do as he pleases. Or what pleased me… I shook my head and held it in my hand. He should not have done what he did! It was shameless and sinful.

I grimaced and worked my way to my feet. Now was not the time to be pondering over this. I shuffled out to the fountains, a little wary that at any minute Altaïr would come through the roof, though the notion was ridiculous. I quickly washed the drying blood and any splinters out as best I could then returned to my work.

The day dragged by. Few assassins came, mostly novices eager to kill their targets. One came waltzing in and, after repeating his instructions from his superior, stated that he wanted to know only the important information for killing his target. I snapped at him to find that information and more his damned self first before I gave permission. It reminded me of when Altaïr was demoted, which made me surlier and terrified the novice more.

"Are they being lax on training these days?" I grumbled to myself after sending another quivering boy out. I sneered. "Tsk. There isn't much quality to these assassins. They don't know anything."

DAY TWO

The next day was not much of an improvement. Mostly I brooded, still unwelcoming to the novices. Despite my best efforts, my attention kept drifting back to the argument.

How dare he? How dare this failure of an assassin accuse  _me_  of acting like a dog in heat? I did not beg him to take me like some young naive virgin after her dramatic hero! I snorted at the analogy. The mere thought!

Not to mention he had said he "would never do something like that against another's will." That was a farce, too! I had not made my will clear, so it was stupid and arrogant of him to assume what I wanted. He should have let me answer properly, or not even begun to tease me at all! What kind of friend would tease- no, physically  _torture_  someone they knew had ingested an aphrodisiac the way he did? It was barbaric! His intentions were likely to simply cause me more stress, because Allah forbid I didn't get enough of that. He was to blame for a great deal of my frustrations in life. This was no exception.

One of the assassins came back ten minutes after receiving their feather, interrupting my fuming inner monologue. It was the same overconfident novice from the other day. "I, uh, seem to have… dropped my eagle feather… in the marketp-place…" He shrunk in on himself the more he talked, sputtering apologies and excuses as my face grew angrier and angrier.

Finally he shut up and I forced my expression to become stoic. "Do you want a feather?"

"Y-yes please, Dai."

I leaned forward. "Well then… go find the one you lost yourself and learn to be a proper assassin, novice!" I slammed my fist on the table and he scurried away.

DAY THREE

"What have you got for me now?" I questioned the novice.

He knitted his brows together and was visibly trying not to cower. "I came to tell you… that I f-found the feather after searching all night. It is really badly trampled…"

I didn't bother glancing at the disfigured feather in his hands. "So? What do you wish me to do about it? Congratulate you? You have your information, the permission, and the feather, so you should continue on with the mission."

He shuffled on his feet before bowing his head. "Yes, Dai. Safety and Peace." He dejectedly left.

I snorted. "Was he expecting a trophy or something? Novices." I shook my head.

My anger finally seemed to have toned down some. I was instead replaying what I remembered of the fateful night in my head. Unfortunately, I remembered most of it. All the turns that could've led to a different outcome along the path were glaring out at me.

"Why, Allah, must this have happened to me?" I questioned the ceiling. "If only that idiot had stayed away when I told him to… Or at least kept on the other side of the counter." Grasping my face in my hand, I sighed. "Ah, if even that damned harlot had not drugged the food in the first place, this mishap would not have transpired. Ha, if one could call  _that_  a mishap."

I squinted my eyes. "It did seem rather intentional… How had he put it? He was overtaken by the way I was acting? Right. And he claims  _I_  am the one who was lustful for more." The memory of wanting moans and a heated touch sent shivers down my spine. "What I wouldn't give to have had the power to say no at that time!"

DAY FOUR

The useless novice hovered in the doorway. I don't believe it was fear of me making him hesitate anymore so much as the overwhelming atmosphere. I had a permanent scowl etched onto my face and moved sluggishly about my tasks. I did not think that had seeped into my surroundings enough to affect others, but I was wrong. Of course.

"Safety and Peace, Dai," he greeted as he slowly walked in. He behaved like he was approaching a wounded animal. I mumbled a sound of recognition. The novice laid a bloodied rumpled feather on my counter. I raised an eyebrow at it. "I have slain my target, as you can see."

I 'tch'ed and turned back to my bookcase, organizing the shelves as I'd been doing for hours. I kept having to reread labels several times before figuring out what they were and placing them in the proper spot. "Yes, yes, I can see that. Good for you. Now buzz off and report to your mentor."

"Uhm, yes sir." There was shuffling on the sandy ground as he started to move away, reminding me I had to sweep. Ugh. "Sir? Forgive me if this is too intrusive, but… Are you alright? You do not look we-"

"I am perfectly fine!" I just managed to reign that one in from being a shout as I glared solemnly at the bookcase. "What is with people and their over concern? Can't a man just be left in peace? Just because he's not frolicking through the streets handing out smiles does not mean you have to comment on it." I slumped and set a scroll down with a little more force than necessary. "Nor does it mean to attempt to do anything to change that matter. What's the point, anyway? People should just mind their own business."

The novice was silent for a moment. "Safety and Peace." He left.

Putting my arm up against a shelf and resting my head in the crook of my elbow I sighed. I shouldn't have snapped at him. He had echoed the words of that damned bastard, though, immediately dredging up memories of that night. Not that I needed to be prompted to do so, as it has been all I could think about since it happened. Well, that and the after-morning discussion.

The outlook on my side of the argument was becoming bleak. It was starting to become obvious that at the time I was grasping at straws and made quite a fool of myself. But damn it, there's no way Altaïr could have been entirely correct. No matter how I looked at it, I was losing. Losing to him.

DAY FIVE

The novice didn't come back the next day, so he had presumably gone back to his teacher. That was fine with me.

What was  _not_  fine, was my conclusion to analyzing what happened between Altaïr and myself.

The camel shit had valid points. He had indeed aided me when I was… ill, which eased the torture the damned aphrodisiac was putting me through. He had also offered to guard me in my embarrassing state if I preferred. Although I hadn't said any verbal confirmation to either option, which I was still counting for a win on my side. I was also fairly desperate by the time he came waltzing in. Another point in my favor, though a bit demeaning.

He had been showing way too much concern for my health even when I pushed him away. We have known each other long enough and been friends enough that he knows I normally scorn him at first in most things, however. So he was just getting past that by being persistent. Which led to my addled brain initiating a fight, because  _of course_  hand-to-hand combat in a small space was the best thing to do when a gentle brush was enough to make me melt. That was severe lack of foresight on my part, and I wished I could stop myself back then. What a horrible stroke of idiocy.

I shook my head, carrying the last of my dried clothes back to my room. It was too late now, though. What's done was done. The result being a mess, both of my bureau and my state of being. "Why had I not said anything when he prompted me?" I murmured to myself as I put away the garments. I recalled him pressing closer to me, his eyes burning into me as he offered the unthinkable.

" _What happens next is up to you; I can help you with this by relieving your pain, or I can leave you to burn out for hours, possibly days and I will make sure no one intrudes during that time."_

The thought of having to be in that state for even a few more minutes was painful, I remembered that much. My body was aching for something to satiate the horrible craving. It had been growing worse as the hours passed, but I'd been sitting in my dark room waiting it out, fighting it. I wasn't usually one to masturbate, and I feared at that point that it would not do much good anyway.

Yet here was someone willing to give me release, to ease these powerful side effects. No, not just someone… it was  _Altaïr_. The humbled assassin that presented a mostly stoic face to the world. He had no problems making it known when he was in a foul mood, and there was always the rival jeering. Even when we grew to become friends, though, he would smirk and taunt me playfully. He'd get a certain look when he was sad and there was the way his mouth turned up just a little instead of outright smiling. He was no stranger to me.

I sat down against a wall, rubbing my forehead. The fact that it was him should not have mattered. Would I have so easily let it happen if it was someone else? I tried to picture it; a faceless nobody who drops into the bureau, only to find me in a weak state. They jump the counter to try to get me to rest- ah, but who would do that but Altaïr? He'd be the only one stubborn enough after the harsh words I gave out to continue to try. He'd be the one to brush it off like the desperate effort it was. Altaïr always dares to go against my wishes to stop fussing over me- although really, who else fusses over the master swordsman Dai of Jerusalem? So it could only be him who would try so hard to get me to rest, who would subdue me when I attack him, who would press close and whisper his cares into my ear…

Only he would be foolish enough to continue to breathe onto my sensitive neck and torture me with that talented mouth of his just on discovering my weakness.

"Mhh." I looked down and realized my hand was kneading my leg, unconsciously inching closer inward. A little problem had started to grow. "Shit." It seemed thinking about those events all this time was taking its effect on my body.

Who wouldn't it affect, though? If they had tall and lean muscles from a warm body pressed flush against them, teasing friction and delicate wet circles traced on their skin, the low gravelly sound of a lust-filled voice caressing their flesh… surely anyone…

The problem was now a big one. That had been unintentional, but my train of thought kept slipping. It was as if there was a little devil inside my mind whispering these distracting things so that I kept returning to that moment in time.

I peered at the doorway connecting to the main bureau. No one had come in all day, and it was nearing sunset. Making an unpleasant face, I glared down at the bulge in my robes and sighed.

"It can not be helped." I loosened my belt and shifted the front of my robes out of the way. My hand slipped in between the cloth and I bit my lip as fingers met flesh.

Ah, it started off slow that night, too, didn't it? He had kept his lips pressed to my skin as he disrobed me. The clinging fabric was pooled around my feet in a slowly growing pile. He took his time. When I had nothing but sweat and a blush on my upper half he had gently taken my legs and slid them out of the pants, his calloused hands touching me like a delicate thing. I remembered sneering; I was anything but delicate.

He finally had me completely naked and stood up. In a low voice he told me something about laying down on a soft surface before taking my arm and leading me to my sleeping quarters. I had followed wordlessly, complying easily when he laid me out on the pillows. There were sweet nothings whispered when he grazed over me with those eagle-like eyes and ran his hands along my body.

I shivered and picked up the pace. Recalling how his eyes burned my skin everywhere they looked sent a spark through my nerves. He had, thankfully, removed his gear and cowl somewhere along the way. His face unobstructed I was able to see the want there and the veneration for what he saw, which had caused me to blush just a little harder then, as the memory did now.

My breath was becoming shorter already, and shuddered, wishing I could mimic the touches too but having only one hand made that impossible. My eyes were closed and my lips parted to let out a few pants. Normally I wouldn't do something like this, and even then I wouldn't think of anything in particular to get me going. This memory, though, was by far enhancing the experience and I could see the end coming sooner than usual. I had been quite verbal then, but now I was trying to stifle my moans.

"Altaïr…" I murmured. Now I couldn't help but to imagine it was not myself down there, but  _him_. Allah, what is wrong with me? I couldn't stop, though. "Altaïr!" I gasped out his name as I finished.

"Yes?" A voice rang in front of me, breaking me from my high. With a raspy gasp, I snap my head forward, confusion plastered on my face. Worry, then to anger, I snapped at the intruding figure.

"Altaïr!" I hissed, forgetting my current predicament. Underneath the hood, I could see a faint smirk playing on his features.

"It seems you've been enjoying yourself. Too bad I was too late."

My eyebrows drew together before I realized what he was talking about. Quickly I threw my robes back into place, my face burning.

He chuckled. "Nothing I haven't seen before. This is a nice angle though," he hummed appreciatively.

"What are you doing here!?" I snapped, glaring at the space beside him. His eyes may have been covered, but I still couldn't bring myself to look directly at the bastard.

Altaïr crossed his arms. "I finished my mission a little early, so I thought I'd swing by here. I'm glad I did. That was quite the little show."

My jaw worked but no words came out. This was a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have exploited the Five Stages. e.e Also, show some love to the little novice who could! XD


	4. Deliberation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duo finally talk it out like adults, and Altaïr continues with his chapter-ending trend.

Altaïr grinned. "If you really wanted me that badly, Malik, I would've been more than happy to help."

I took a deep breath to reign in my storm of emotions; outrage, frustration, annoyance, and mainly embarrassment. I tamped them down as best I could and used the wall behind me to stand up. I didn't trust my legs so soon after… well, after that, but propped myself up as straight as I could manage. "You are not welcome here. You are meant to report directly back to Al Mualim."

He shrugged without a hint of remorse for deviating from orders. "It is on my to-do list. As I said, I'm just stopping by. What, you can't possibly be telling me you didn't want me here?"

He took a step forward.

I instinctively moved to step back, but there was the wall behind me. "Of course I do not want you here. Your presence is a nuisance."

Altaïr mockingly clutched the front of his tunic, as if he'd been physically stabbed. "You wound me, Malik. Especially since you seemed to enjoy the mere thought of my presence just a moment ago." He stepped closer, his smile mischievous.

I flushed. "Th-that is ridiculous."

"So you missed me that much, huh?" He was getting closer. My pulse was picking up speed from nerves. I held firm regardless.

"You should not shirk your responsibilities so easily, novice. Go and report to Al Mualim."

Another step. The master assassin was intruding on my personal space, although I'd consider him doing so if he was even in the same city.

"Really? Maybe you should punish me for misbehaving," he purred, leaning forward with his hands clasped behind his back.

I blinked and shivered. That sounded like a very good idea, actually. Maybe then he'd follow the rules. Tie him up and whip him until he begged, his sweat-covered body arched and aching as he pleaded for me with those fiery golden eyes… I really have to control my sick fantasies, I thought vehemently to myself. Glaring, I wordlessly pointed at the doorway.

Altaïr stood there for a moment, frowning. I could practically feel him roll his eyes when he sighed. "Fine, I'll go," he grumbled, finally slinking away to the exit. "But you and I need to talk when I get back." He paused at the doorway and smiled cheekily back at me. "I'll return soon. Don't have too much fun without me~"

"Out!" I shouted harshly.

He chuckled and disappeared. I sighed wearily and rubbed my temple. It was beginning to become more stressful every time I saw him. He was right, though; we definitely needed to talk.

\--

The object of my grievances returned the following morning. I didn't get much sleep the night before, too distracted to entertain the notion. Surely this conversation would be a difficult one. Moreso because of the stubbornness each of us possessed, I begrudgingly had to admit. Not to mention the confusion I felt from how exactly I viewed the happenings.

I was tapping mindlessly with a quill on a blank parchment when he dropped in. I could tell it was him without looking. He leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed, and delivered the usual greeting without much gusto. It was time to be serious.

The silence stretched on, each of us unsure who would- or how to- start. Thankfully Altaïr was the first to break the ice. "So. Have you calmed down and thought while I was away, Malik?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"You are not without blame."

He seemed ready to say something, but thought better of it and held his tongue. He was keeping calm instead of bursting out into argument. Good.

I glared at the counter. "...You may not be entirely wrong, either."

His chin tilted up, a little surprised at my admittance but not daring to gloat as I half-expected him to do. "About what, precisely?"

I twirled the pen between two fingers. With difficulty, I replied. "It is true I did not stop you, and you gave me ample opportunity to do so. Granted, I was not thinking clearly, thanks to the aphrodisiac. It is important to remember 'willing' and 'influenced' are not the same thing." I glanced up to watch his reaction.

Ah, there it was. The guilt. His head turned to the side, his fingers tightened on his arms, and his mouth was pulled into a line. He didn't get this look often before his... reformation. "...You are right, of course." His shoulders slumped before he looked straight at me. "I did indeed take advantage of the state the drug put you in. It… It cannot be excused away. And I am sorry for that. Truly. It was wrong of me to use you for my own pleasure."

I stared at him. It still shocked me when he did things like this; admitting his own wrongs and claiming fault. It was a far cry from the Altaïr of training days. He was finally owning up to his actions and seeking forgiveness, yet not expecting any to be given. I could just see his eyes peeking out from under the hood, and they confirmed this. He had been thinking about that night just as much as I had.

His eyes also told me how much he still wanted to be in my favor. How he didn't want me to hate him for it, but that he understood if I did.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Waving my hand I turned away. "Unpretentiousness is a strange skin on you, even after all these months. But if we are both to be honest, I wouldn't say I am free of flaws in this either. I had mind enough to know what would happen if I said yes, and that you would indeed look after me should I have said no." I became quieter as I leaned back against the counter. "After a while I stopped wanting to decide and just let it happen. I didn't feel like resisting you any longer." And that scares me, I mentally added.

It was one of the things that had kept me up last night. The realization that I could be, would be so weak as to simply give up and let him have his way. That is not how our dynamic usually worked. He pushes, I shove, and I usually win. For once I let him dominate me instead of fighting back. Worse, I feared that at least part of it was because it was him. This power he had over me was mind boggling and left me feeling disadvantaged and lost.

Altaïr was silent as he absorbed what I told him. His boots scraped softly, signaling him coming closer. I tensed. "...We both gave in that night; I to my desires and you to me. There is just one thing I have to ask, Malik."

He set his palm on the counter and leaned forward to see my face. He was much closer than I thought and I tilted away from him, but he seemed to follow. "Why did you give in?"

I immediately frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked. Why did you give in? It's not normally like you. Was it because I was that good, or what? You did just admit that you gave up 'resisting' me afterall; your words, not mine." The faintest hint of a smirk played on his lips. "What exactly did you mean by that?"

It was something I wondered myself. I'd be damned if I let him think it was because I was overtaken by his seduction, though. I pushed at his face with my hand. "Tch. Do not get so full of yourself, novice. I went through nearly a full day of drug-induced stress. I was too tired to struggle anymore."

I expected more snide remarks, maybe a snicker or two. What I received was feeling those plump lips turn down against my palm and a simple, solemn "Oh."

Altaïr backed up, his head down. The sadness of rejection clearly written on his face made my chest hurt from the intensity of it. I raised an eyebrow. "That is quite the reaction. Are you really this hung up about not being as much of a philanderer as you thought?"

He shook his head. "That's not it, I… nevermind. By the way, I almost forgot to mention Al Mualim gave us both a mission. We must travel to one of the small towns outside of Jerusalem, so it shouldn't take long. Be ready by noon." The assassin I thought I knew so well turned away from me and walked quickly out the door.

For the second time in a week, Altaïr vanished from my bureau troubled, leaving me in a state of confusion and unsure whether I wanted to strangle him or kiss him until the problem went away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I should make this point clear: Altaïr and Malik didn't NECESSARILY do the do. I had to "fade-to-black" for two reasons: 1. to keep the rating down, and 2. to leave what happened up to the reader's imaginations. If you wanted them to get down and dirty, then they got down and dirty. If you wanted some sweet mouth-diddling fun, then that is exactly what happened. Think they did something in between? Whelp, then guess what they did? For as much as I'm putting in, I'm trying to keep it as vague as possible while still letting you know something intense went down. The story focus is more on the after-effects, after all. So let your imaginations run wild~  
> That being said, thank you all for being patient with me! So sorry for how short this is. OTL I am not great at making decisions, and the way this chapter was going I needed some help. ^^; But! I have the next couple of chapters planned out, so fingers crossed I update quicker!


	5. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission is supposed to be simple and easy. Of course these idiots don't understand that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho ho ho. I can’t believe I’m actually working on this. I have more pressing things to be doing. But I enjoy writing this story much more. Also, about the bit with the saddle: I tried looking for how one would go about mounting a horse with one arm, but everything I found just said have someone help you. So used what I already know about mounting Western-style saddles and I made it up parts of it. Same thing with riding.

I bid the underling farewell as I left the bureau. Even though I was assured the mission wouldn’t take more than a day or two, I spent most of my time tracking down one of my trusted fellows to be sure I was leaving Jerusalem’s sanctuary in competent hands.

Pack filled and my Dai attire switched out for normal Assassin ones, I waited for Altaïr beside the bureau. I fiddled with the strap across my chest. It had been a long time since I wore these robes. I had grown so accustomed to my black djellaba that it was strange to be in all white. The sensation was like running into a very old acquaintance; familiarity that caused me to become nervous and unsettled, though I was not sure why. To say the least, I was uncomfortable. Perhaps by the time we reached the town the feeling would pass.

Speaking of the mission, Altaïr was late. It was past noon already. I snorted as I saw him appear around a corner, casually strolling. “The great Altaïr finally arrives. And here I thought I would take too long finding a temporary replacement. You should have told me you would be using the long way to get here. I could have waited inside, out of the high sun.”

Altaïr shrugged. “I was getting the horses.”

I walked forward, pushing past him. “Of course you were.” He said nothing, instead turning to fall in step behind me. He was brooding still. This would not do if we were to work on a mission together. But it would probably be best to address it when we were not in a crowd of people.

Once we were out of the city gates, Altaïr led us to a post with two gray horses tethered to it. I was handed the reins of the one with a darker mane, but just as I was about to grab them the master assassin paused. He looked between me and the saddle, torn on saying something. I quickly realized what his problem was, then promptly snatched the reins and glared.

“I do not need assistance getting on a damn horse, Altaïr. I am armless, not helpless.”

He backed off, his arms up in a placating gesture. I huffed as I stomped over to the left side of the horse. It was a little taller than Altaïr’s, and eyeballing me in the same manner I was looking at it. I hadn’t been on a horse since… the incident. Being bureau leader didn’t exactly require me to travel outside of Jerusalem after all. But if I could manage to scale a wall with one arm, then logically getting on a horse shouldn’t be terribly hard. With that mindset, I threw the reins over the horn and braced my arm across the saddle. I lifted my left foot into the stirrup and began heaving myself up.

The horse, the arrogant bastard, apparently didn’t like my method. It snorted indignantly and shuffled to the side, making me lose my balance while my foot caught in the stirrup. I ended up with my face in my knee and my other leg at an awkward angle trying to keep myself from falling to the ground. I heard a noise from behind me, but I didn’t bother looking. I knew the expression I’d see.

“You know, maybe I could just-”

“No.”

“If you just let me-”

“Nope.”

“Just a little boost-”

“Not another word, novice.”

I shook my foot free of the stirrup and patted down my robes. Glancing about, I found what looked to be the remnants of an old wall. I grabbed at the stupid horse’s reins and led it over to the crumbling stones. It came obediently, and if I didn’t know any better I’d have said it looked bemused. The pesky beast stopped when I did and held still long enough for me to use the wall as stepping stones and get on the saddle. As soon as I was sitting fully on its back with the reins in my hand it shifted and snorted, shaking its head as if to complain about my weight. I narrowed my eyes at it.

“Don’t whine, you picky steed. You should be used to carrying people. I am not that heavy, either.” It turned its head, lazily gnawing on the bit in its mouth. I gestured at my pinned-up sleeve. “See? One whole arm less heavy.”

I wasn’t sure if the horse actually understood me, but it did continue to stare at me for a few seconds before shifting again. Hooves sounded next to me and I watched Altaïr approach, already mounted and ready to go. Suddenly I became aware of how ridiculous I must look, arguing with a horse. Heat rose in my cheeks and I coughed. “Let us leave.”

I saw the hint of a smirk before he forced his lips into a thin line and urged his horse onto the road. My eyes narrowed and I followed suit.

We were riding for what couldn’t be more than ten minutes in awkward silence when there was a major issue. Well, the silence would have been awkward if I didn’t have something to occupy my attention and annoyance. As it would figure, my horse didn’t appear to like me at all. The entire time it would begin slowing down, and when I squeezed my legs to encourage it to pick up the pace it would jolt forward. Every turn in the road was a nightmare since just the slightest tug on the reins either received no response or too much of one. I was muttering curses to the foul beast as it, once again, shot ahead of Altaïr only to come to an abrupt stop. Altaïr pulled his reins before the horses came too close, which was a good thing because his looked ready to bite the idiot who blocked its path. I was silently sympathizing.

“What seems to be the problem Malik?”

I stared hard over my shoulder at him, my brows furrowed. “The problem? The problem is this damned horse you gave me! It is more stubborn and has even more of an attitude than you.”

His mouth twisted. “I can assure you I had no intentions of grabbing such a horse for you. If I had known it was so misbehaved I wouldn’t have brought it.”

The steed in question pawed the ground with a hoof impatiently as I snorted. I lowered the reigns and gave a gentle tap with my heels, allowing it to start walking again. Altaïr did the same, coming up alongside me. “Yes, I’m sure. Or maybe you drew toward a kindred soul; it may look like a horse, but it has the personality of an ass.”

He shook his head and probably rolled his eyes as well. “If you would like, we could switch horses.”

I thought for a moment before shaking my head. “Tempting, but no.”

“Why? You clearly consider him a burden.” The master assassin cocked his head at me like a puppy. If his hood was down, I was sure I’d find wide, golden eyes staring curiously at me. How disgustingly cute.

I shrugged my left shoulder, not wanting to admit that I would gladly switch if it weren’t for the fact that there wasn’t anything around I could use for a step. “We’re almost to our destination, what would be the sense of trading now? I can handle the antics for that long at least. Besides, I am getting used to it already.” I gestured down at it. “See? Walking normally.”

I spoke too soon. The gesture meant ‘go in circles’ apparently, because it was turning away from the road. I pulled up at the reigns and pressed with my foot, attempting to get us going straight again. It worked, to an extent. I scowled, wishing nothing more than to turn the stupid thing into meat as it sidestepped forward.

The two-legged asshole started snickering. Oh, he bit his lip to try to stop, but I caught it. “Is this funny to you, novice?”

“No, brother. Of course not.” His expression said otherwise.

I pressed my heel in until we righted. We were going about twice as fast as we were before, but it was in the right direction. Deciding not to tempt fate, I let this pace continue. Altaïr got the hint and adjusted to catch up.

Soon we were outside the village. It was small and open, with only one or two buildings reaching a second story. We maneuvered our horses to an empty post and I made the trial of dismounting. The horse did not want to come to a full stop at first, and as soon as I was off attempted to keep walking. I snatched up the reigns and gave it a disapproving look while tying it up. It lifted its head and blew through its nose, leaving wet drops covering my face.

I stomped away from the damn thing, scrubbing vigorously. I could hear Altaïr failing to hold back his sniggering now. As I passed by him, I wiped the snot on my hand onto his arm. “I’m glad I could entertain you, novice. Hurry up so we can get this mission over with.”

The two of us made our way between the houses, heading towards the center of the village. The Grand Master told us of a Templar who had been seen in and around the area for a week. He was hiring men from Jerusalem, but for what was unknown. So far they had a growing camp on the outskirts of this village. Our task was to find out why and eliminate him.

I had asked Altaïr why I was told to leave my post to go on what seemed to be a one-man job. He had ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck before slowly answering: _Our master believes they may be looking for the object from Soloman’s Temple_.

Even now, just the thought of that mission made my heart race and the ghost of my arm itch. I grabbed at the pinned fabric, willing away the sensation. It made sense for Al Mualim to send us then; it was safer if as few people knew of that strange artifact as possible, so who better to send than the two surviving assassins from the retrieval?

If the Templar was indeed hiring men to find the artifact it was reasonable to assume they would gather them out here rather than an assassin-frequented city like Jerusalem. The question was, why regular citizens? Why not soldiers or other Templars? I chewed on the question as Altaïr and I sought our target.

A group of five men were conversing within the shade of a low wooden structure that clung to a tall building. One of them had a bright red cross displaying proudly over his front. He was standing straight and tall with his arms crossed and was talking down his nose at the four men arguing in front of him. Sweat was soaking his brow and the cloth of his armor thanks to the heat of the day, but he made no sign of acknowledging this.

“We need to get him alone so we can interrogate him,” Altaïr whispered.

I nodded. “It doesn’t appear he’s going anywhere any time soon, though. They’re pretty engaged in their conversation. Perhaps we should wait it out nearby first.”

“It’ll be troublesome if none of them leave. We’d have to provide a distraction and force the Templar away from them.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “I leave that to you then, should it come to that.” Taking my leave, I swiftly made my way to an adjacent building and hid behind some pottery. As I settled into a crouch, I noticed Altaïr duck into a doorway much closer. It wasn’t much of a hiding place if any of the men decided to go around the corner, but that idiot would probably find a way out of it.

“- Not what we were paid for!” one of the disgruntled men was saying.

“Not that we aren’t thankful for the money, sir,” a second one hastily added, “it’s just I- the others- we’ve been growing restless. All we’ve done is sit around at camp.”

“You should be thankful then,” the Templar grumbled. “Being paid to do nothing.”

A third man with a scruffy beard stepped forward. “That’s all fine and well for some, but the rest of us were promised some action! You said there’d be fighting, or footwork at least. Not milling around camp cooking and cleaning like women. When do we get to the good part?”

The Templar sneered. “Have patience, you impudent windbag. Once our numbers are great enough-”

“Yes, yes, we will be the key to helping you in your important task. You’ve said that before. But when?” The bearded man waved his hands in the air. “You say you wanted us as guards, so I expected a brawl!”

“If this task of yours is so important, why hasn’t anything happened?” questioned the first man, growing more agitated as he talked. “How many men is enough? What could possibly warrant such protection? This is getting ridiculous! I’m ready to take my pay and leave now. Nothing has happened yet, and you have plenty of protect- hrk!”

The Templar withdrew his sword from the man. He fell to his knees, then on his back, holding his gut and groaning. Blood gushed out onto the ground around him. He was dead within seconds.

Wiping his blade on the man’s pants, he eyed each of the others in turn. “I hired you to do as you are told. Your place is to do so, even if it means sitting on your asses for a week, a month, I don’t care. It does not mean you get to question me. Is that clear?” The skittish man nodded fervently, looking on the verge of tears. The bearded man nodded slowly, staring wide-eyed at the cooling body of his comrade and mouth moving silently.

“Good. Now, you two,” he pointed with his sword, causing both men to jump. I tightened my hand on the handle of my own sword, prepared to intercept. I could see Altaïr do the same. The Templar waved at the body before sheathing his weapon. “Get rid of this before it draws too much attention.”

They stared between him and the body. He narrowed his eyes. “Now!” he said sternly. The two flinched and reached down, grabbing an arm each before dragging the dead man away. I pressed myself into the shadows as they struggled past, but they didn’t spare a glance in my direction. They heaved the body towards a wagon situated out of view of the main buildings. I was prepared to signal Altaïr to go ahead when I heard the Templar speak again.

“Is this becoming common in camp?”

I peeked between the vases to see who he was addressing. It was the fourth man, the one who hadn’t spoken at all. He had seemed almost uninterested in the conversation the entire time, so it was easy to look over him. Now he had his full attention on his boss, who sheathed his sword.

“Unfortunately,” he responded. “The men are indeed growing restless, and a couple of fights have broken out already. They’re losing confidence in what brought them here.”

The Templar scratched his chin. “See to it that they remember and force them to settle down if you have to. We’re not leaving until we have what we came here for.”

“Yes sir.” The man bowed his head and followed the other two, disappearing behind the building.

Finally the Templar was alone. I drew my sword and stood, stepping out in front of the vases. His hand flew to his hilt, but then he paused and squinted his eyes at me. A small sneer spread across his face. Before he could do anything Altaïr was behind him, one arm holding him in place, the other pressing a hidden blade to his throat. The Templar’s expression didn’t change.

“Ha! I was wondering when they’d send somebody. Just my luck it’d be the cripple, too.”

My lip twitched into a quick snarl before I could stop it. Altaïr tightened his hold. “Why are you hiring men?”

The Templar ignored him, keeping his eyes on me. “I’ve heard of you, you know. They say you’re a master with a sword. Or were, I suppose. Can’t do much now, can you?”

I could feel heat as I stepped closer to our captive, but whether it was from the sun or my steadily growing annoyance I couldn’t tell. “Answer the question. Why are you gathering people?”

He laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Really, this worked out too perfectly. I’d thank you for that, but I don’t thank assassin scum.” The Templar suddenly threw back his elbow, catching Altaïr in the gut and causing him to loosen his hold. He pushed out of his arms and spun to the side to deliver another blow to his head. I rushed forward and slashed down with my sword. The Templar jumped back, the tip of my blade making an awful screech as it dragged down the armor on his arm.

He took a step back to draw his own sword and settled into a ready position. “Come on!” he shouted before taking a heavy swing at me. I parried and immediately went on the defensive. He kept coming at me, strike after strike. I spared a quick glance to see what was keeping my companion. Inwardly I groaned; the shout had brought three thugs, presumably under the leadership of the Templar. They were surrounding Altaïr, darting towards him at random. He was easily keeping them off, but they knew enough to deflect his attacks as well.

“Getting slow there, novice?” I called, sidestepping another downward cut.

“Oh no, hardly. Just passing the time while I wait for you,” he grunted out, pushing one of the men back. He stumbled and Altaïr drove his sword into his abdomen. The sounds of running could be heard.

“Hey,” the Templar barked, “pay attention to the fight in front of you, mongrel, or you might lose your other arm!” He swung at my right side. I caught it with the flat of my blade and redirected it to the ground. The Templar pulled back and jabbed at my left this time, but I deflected that, too. He was getting sloppy. He was strong and quicker than expected. If I held out just a bit longer then his heavy metal armor would exhaust him enough for me to get past his defenses. Already he was slipping, and I managed to nick his cheek. That just angered him and he struck back with twice the effort. I narrowly dodged and landed another hit between the joints.

He gritted his teeth and swung his sword haphazardly, stepping forward. I backed up and he kept pushing, seemingly determined to land a blow. “Come on, assassin! I thought you were a challenge! Unless all your skill went with that arm. Ha! You must be utterly useless. I wonder why they still keep you around.” One of his swings tore the fabric of my robes as I jumped back. “They probably feel sorry for you. You assassins and your stupid.” Another heavy-handed slash, closer. “Useless.” A lurch forward. “Pity.”

I slammed my foot down on the flat of his sword, causing him to stumble to a crouch. I raised my fist and brought the hilt of my sword down on the back of his head. He let out a strangled gasp and fell to the ground unconscious.

I stood above him, huffing, glaring at the bleeding gash that had formed on his head. I kicked his sword out of his hand. “I require no pity, only respect,” I spat at him.

Checking that he truly was just unconscious, I looked around. The Templar had brought us a ways away from the wooden scaffolding. I could still hear scuffling from that direction. _Looks like I’ll have to help the novice out_ , I thought to myself. I stood up with a sigh.

Just as I was about to round the structure to join the fight, someone was shoved into me. We staggered back, and he recovered before me. It was one of the Templar’s goons. He noticed my attire and raised his scimitar, ready to sink it into my flesh. A short knife suddenly appeared in his neck. He had about a second to look surprised before he spat blood and collapsed.

I turned to see Altaïr frowning, his sword in his off-hand and his other poised over his empty knife belt. Dead bodies littered the ground around him. I let out a breath. “Thank you. It looks like I don’t have to help after all.” Bringing my hand up, I started to wipe the blood off of my face.

“Malik!”

The alarm in his voice caused me to whip my head so fast my neck hurt. I was only able to see a flash of Altaïr running and a blur of brown as something was slipped over my head. There was an indistinguishable shout. I jerked when I felt hands grip my shoulders. A sharp hit had colors blooming in front of my eyes before turning to blackness.


	6. Bleeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musty old basements are never a good thing. Neither is passing out three times in one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the world’s slowest writer, I swear. Many deep apologies for keeping you waiting! On the up side, I believe this is my longest chapter to date.  
>  **Warning:** this chapter contains blood, violence, and torture. If you are uncomfortable with that, I would recommend skimming or skipping this chapter entirely.

I awoke to much the same state as I last remembered- darkness, the smell of sweat, and hot air so thick it was suffocating. It didn’t take me long to realize two of these things were due to the burlap bag scratching my face. The texture was irritating, and I tried to reach up to scratch only to feel rope binding my arm to a hard surface behind my back. I shifted experimentally; it was a chair.

A man’s voice spoke off to the side. “Ah, sir, he’s up.” 

I froze. Footsteps scraped across the ground from the opposite direction. I tensed as they neared. Suddenly the sack was pulled off of my head and I was thrown into candlelight. The bump forming on back of my skull decided that was too much stimulus and throbbed. I furrowed my eyebrows and squinted at whoever had moved. The abrupt change from darkness to light clouded my vision a bit, but the shift wasn't that big and my eyes adjusted quickly.

I was in a small room, no bigger than the fountain room at the bureau, tied to a wooden chair sat in the middle and stripped down to a single layer of clothing. The walls and floor were bare but dirty, and the only furniture besides my seat was a torch and a heavy table to my left. On it was a misshapen bundle, some papers, a bucket, and a candle. Just out of the corner of my eye I spotted a door standing closed. To my right I could see a tall man in clean robes, a small Templar cross embellishing it like a badge. Standing above me with a nasty smirk twisting his mouth was none other than the Templar I had previously knocked out. He no longer had his sword and a considerable amount of his armor was removed, but what really caught my attention were the bandages wrapped around his head and cheek.

“Did you miss me?” he said.

I couldn't help myself; I must’ve been hanging around Altaïr too long. “No, but you clearly missed me if you went so far as to kidnap me. If you would like me to beat your ass again, I would be happy-”

There was a loud smack as he slapped me across the mouth. It reverberated around my skull and I could taste the tang of blood. He had a chainmail glove on, probably explicitly for this purpose.

The man frowned deeply. “You will not speak to me in that way, filth.” He placed his arms behind his back and began walking in a circle around me. I worked my stinging jaw as he talked. Curious, I stuck my tongue out and judging by the taste of iron, there was a large split in my lip as well as the inside of my cheek.

“In case you haven’t noticed, assassin,” he spat the word like a curse. “You were easily captured and detained. There are guards in and out of this room, plus many more in the surrounding area. Escape and you die. Talk back and you die. Fail to answer my questions and you die. Got it?” He emphasized his point by getting close to my face, glaring. I could smell his rancid breath.

I scrunched up my nose and brought my forehead smashing against his. He cursed loudly, clutching his head as he stumbled back. Frantic noises came from the guard to my right. I lifted a leg and kicked the Templar right in the groin. He fell back clutching his crotch and groaning. Quickly I stood up, the chair awkwardly hanging off my arm and banging into the back of my legs. Thank goodness for their apparent lack of understanding the advantage of one arm when binding me.

I swung around and let the guard charging at me ram into the chair legs. The thing was surprisingly flimsy and splintered with a loud crack. I kicked at it while the guard was attempting to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him.

The door burst open just as I dislodged the chair back from the seat and two more guards came rushing in. They came at me swinging clubs. I raised my arm up, using the backing like armor to deflect their blows. One of them landed heavily directly on my arm and I could feel the force behind it right to my bones. I gritted my teeth and shot between the two of them for the open door.

I made it far enough to see there was a slightly bigger room with stairs leading up before someone grabbed the back of my collar and yanked me down. It seemed like one of the others recovered, as two people held me pinned to the ground and a third wrapped their hands around my neck and squeezed. I gasped and thrashed about, but to no avail. As air struggled to get past my lips my eyes rolled. The edges of my vision blurred and darkness swallowed me for the second time that day.

///

When I regained consciousness, I could feel my arm was once again bound behind my back in addition to my chest. Once the spots cleared from my view I turned my head, but couldn't quite see what I was tied to this time. Judging by the texture and shape, not to mention the fact that I was sitting on the floor, they secured me to a leg of the heavy table, facing away from the door. Additional rope wound around my legs as well. Two more guards were positioned by the walls around me. They certainly weren't taking chances this time.

The Templar who was questioning me before was sporting a black eye and staying at least five feet away from me. Good.

“Insolent cur! Attempt something like that again and you will suffer the consequences.”

I bit back another witty response. Now might not be the time for upsetting them, particularly when they had the upper hand.

The Templar nodded to the man leaning against the nearest wall. He strode forward and stopped by the table. I heard rustling above my head and the clinking of metal hitting metal. I was curious as to what exactly he was doing, but movement distracted me. The Templar shuffled in front of me with a slight limp. He crossed his arms and glared at me with disdain.

“This time you will obey. Understand, cripple?”

I narrowed my eyes, but otherwise made no move to answer him. He frowned, and gestured to the man fussing at the table behind me. Fingers gripped my head tightly, yanking it back, and a small blade was pressed to my throat. I could feel the skin break where the sharp edge dug into my flesh.

I swallowed and choked out a “yes.” The action caused the knife to go a little deeper, but it was removed and my head dropped.

The corner of the Templar’s mouth curled up. “Good. Now, tell me, what did you barbarians do with the treasure?”

I blinked in confusion. “Treasure?”

“Yes, yes, the sacred artifact,” he huffed impatiently.

So Al Mualim was right; they are searching for it. Feigning ignorance, I kept my expression blank and tilted my head. “I do not understand. What artifact?”

The Templar clenched his fist. “Do not pretend you don’t remember. You already know. You and your arrogant brethren foolishly attacked Solomon’s Temple and stole that which does not belong to you. You somehow managed to take our treasure and escape with your life.” He let out a bark of laughter, pointedly looking at my left shoulder. “Although not all of you made it out.”

He knew I was on that mission, then. I schooled my face to a dark comprehension. “Ah. That artifact.”

Triumph laced his voice. “Yes, that artifact. Dim-witted assassin.”

Before he could remember to ask a question, I scoffed. “I suppose I would be recognizable, then, if you are truly on the lookout for the assassin that stole your precious treasure. How lucky for you I stumbled onto your doorstep.”

A motion of his hand and the blade was back in a flash, slicing through my shoulder. I grimaced and hissed at the pain. “Disrespectful bastard. You were not here by some coincidence. You fell into our trap.”

“Trap?” I snapped my head up, bristling.

“Yes. Did you really think we would gather so close to a known infested city just for a chance of catching one assassin? Ha. We are much smarter than that.” He bent forward, a devious grin splitting his face. “We know all about you, oh master of the sword. After the little incident at the temple, you were moved to Jerusalem. Shoved in a box so they wouldn't have to look at you, the perfect position for someone so useless. Regardless, the only way to draw you out of your rat hole would be to get your master’s attention. What better way than appear to be amassing an army right under your nose and spread rumors of a hunt for the treasure? Logically, he would send the one who retrieved it before, who resides closest to the camp.”

The Templar sniffed, proudly placing his hands on his hips. “The simplest of plans, really. How your order has survived this long is beyond me.”

“Tch.” My lip curled to show teeth, but on the inside I was smirking. That was very informative, indeed.

He seemed to remember what we were gathered here for and gestured at the man again. The knife was slashed across my upper arm. I cried out at the unexpected wound. “What was that for!?”

“For side-tracking me,” the Templar intoned disapprovingly. “Answer the question. What did you do with the stolen object?”

I shook my head. “Why would I tell you?”

The knife came down across my chest, tearing my top open with a short red gash. I flinched but clenched my teeth. He glared daggers at me. “I am the one asking questions here! You will answer me.”

I tried calming my breathing. The chest wound was deeper than the cuts in my arm, competing for which hurt the most. I felt the blood trickle down my skin, mixing with sweat. The stale, dusty air hitting my lacerations only made them sting more.

The Templar grew impatient. “Where is it?”

I dared to look him defiantly in the eye. He made a small gesture with his hand again and a cut was placed on my collar bone, extending to the top of the ropes around the end of my sternum. I just barely kept my features the same.

He sighed. “Be useful and tell me where the treasure is located, and I may show some pity.”

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow. “No? No you will not tell me or no you do not want pity?”

“Both,” I spat aggressively.

The Templar narrowed his eyes then shrugged. “If you say so.” With a nod behind me, there was a scrape of boots on ground and the man with the knife walked into sight. He knelt down and cut off the rest of my top and ropes around my chest before returning to the table. There was a soft clinking then he once again stood in front of me. In his hand was a long black whip.

With a raise of his hand the Templar signaled the whipping to commence. My eyes bulged before I squeezed them shut at the first contact of leather to skin. It hurt, and the cuts on my chest did me no favors. The whip cracked and bit into my skin once, twice. A third time and I was curling forward, cursing to myself. The restraint on my right arm extended past my elbow, so it was difficult to pull away from the table without stretching the cut on my shoulder, but I didn’t care. The man struck me relentlessly, landing on my abdomen, chest, shoulders, and the tops of my thighs.

Through it, the Templar talked between the rhythm of loud snaps. “Perhaps they were too pitiful to not kill you. There is no gain in keeping a disabled wretch such as yourself. It would have been better if they got rid of the dead weight. Less trouble and they wouldn't have to worry about situations like now.”

Try as I might, it was difficult to block the Templar's taunts out. These were the very fears I faced when I woke up in a bloody medical bed, my arm freshly amputated. I understood that to keep the arm would have been a potential danger and a fruitless endeavor anyway since the damage was so severe. I knew that, but... To have something you never thought twice about losing, that you always assumed would be with you your entire life, suddenly yanked from you never to be seen again was awful. It was like losing Kadar all over again. I naively believed I could watch over him forever and in an instant that illusion was shattered. I couldn't protect him with two arms; what could I possibly do with one?

My face was scrunched up as I grunted after each bite of the whip took a little piece out of me. The pattern of angry red lines littering my torso was slowly growing. I thought I had gotten over everything about Solomon's Temple. I had slowly stopped blaming the Altaïr in front of me for what the assassin of the past had done. We had both atoned, in the eyes of the Brotherhood and ourselves. He for his mistakes and I for not doing a better job. Had I been more firm with Altaïr, protected my brother better... Those thoughts were resolved. But listening to the Templar drag on about my faults was bringing them to the surface. I wanted to punch him in the face very badly.

"I wonder, did you scream and cry when your so-called brothers held you down and chopped off your precious arm or did you pass out right away?" He hummed. "Maybe if we cut off the other one, you'll tell us what we need. Of course, the Assassins are likely to throw you on the street at that point!" He chuckled as if he'd said the funniest joke in the world. It made my stomach churn.

"You're wrong," I hissed.

His eyebrow shot up. "What was that? What did you just say?"

I pressed my lips into a thin line. I would not indulge him. He narrowed a dangerous look at me.

"Guard. Increase the strength at which you whip him. I want there to be no skin left."

"Yes sir."

I drew my bound legs up as best I could to protect my bare skin, but the guard was having none of that. He forced my legs down and set a foot on my knees to keep them there. I grimaced at the uncomfortable pressure, but cried out as he brought his whip down again.

He was wrong. The Assassins didn't look down on me. Sure, some actions were difficult, and I could never wield a hidden blade properly again. But I could damn well still fight, something the bandages all over the Templar could attest to. Besides, I was valued for my wisdom just as much as my sword. I was placed as Dai of the Jerusalem bureau, a high honor indeed. No amount of cutting away at my limbs would remove my mind from me. It was not something this outsider could possibly understand, and why his torture wasn't going to work.

With that thought in mind, I steeled myself against the pain. If I could not endure this much, then I wouldn't be much of an assassin.

For some reason, the Templar held up his hand just as the guard was in the middle of a swing. He halted and the whip uselessly flopped in the air. The guard stood back, allowing the Templar to come forward and tower over me, mindfully keeping to the side of my legs, although I was in too much pain to even consider using them to assault him. He reached up and grabbed the knife and twirled it between his hands, all the while staring at me.

“Where is it?” he droned.

I remained silent.

The Templar squatted down to eye-level, cocked his arm back and stabbed me in the leg. I croaked out a curse, gritting my teeth.

Without any warning he dug his metal-clad finger into one of the deeper cuts on my chest and wormed it around. It felt as if a thousand sharp needles were clawing at my skin, burning my flesh. A choked cry of pain left my throat, but I otherwise desperately fought not to scream.

“Where is it?”

I shook my head. He repeated the question again, digging deeper and harder into my raw chest. I twisted about, trying to get away from his burrowing finger, but that just caused the metal chinks to scrape even more and the guard to apply his foot to my legs once again. The rope binding my arms was rubbing away at my wrists while movement caused abrasions on my arm from the rough wooden table leg. Still, I refused to open my mouth, even when I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

Frustrated, the Templar removed his finger only to grip my bruised and bleeding throat tightly. The slick metal pressed into my skin was enough to make me clench my eyes shut. He shook my neck until I looked at him.

“Tell me.”

Looking back, it was perhaps not the wisest thing to gather up the blood pooling in my mouth and spit in his face.

His eyes darkened. The Templar roughly released me, as if throwing down a discarded toy, sighed, and stood up while wiping away the mix of blood and saliva. He absentmindedly yanked the knife out of my leg, and I groaned in pain. “Get the salt.”

My eyes widened and darted from my torturer to the guard. He trudged off out of view briefly. I squirmed and pulled at my bindings, splinters be damned. I could feel panic grip my chest as the guard walked slowly up to me, wielding a bucket. I craned my upper body away, dreading what was to come. The whole thing was poured over me, reaching down my back and in between the coils of rope, around my neck and across my chest and abdomen laced with cuts and welts, and even into the fresh knife wound in my leg.

I screamed. My whole body felt like it was on fire. I could feel every individual opening the salt seeped into like a sharp beacon of agony. The worst had to be where the whip and knife had minced up my chest, the burning sensations melding into one huge, excruciating pain. Blood and sweat were mixing with the dusty air, forging trails down my trembling body. Tears came to my eyes and my throat was getting hoarse already from both the screaming and chokings. I writhed about the floor, as if I could crawl away from the unbearable anguish. My shoulder ached from the limited movement I was fighting against, and I banged my head on the table more than once. I didn’t care. Anything, anything to distract from the searing ache that seemed to be seeping its way into my very veins.

I don’t know how long I sat there like that. The light of the candles danced across my watery eyes. I could barely make out the forms of my captors. They wavered and one of them came closer to slap me on the face.

“Hey now, no fainting.” The Templar. He gripped my chin and forced me to look up at him. I couldn't read his expression; my vision was getting hazy. “Now, are you ready to tell me where you have hidden the important treasure?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but all that came out was a hoarse whoosh of air and spurt of blood dribbling down my chin. When had I stopped screaming?

A sneer. That much I could make out, with the flash of white teeth against his skin. “Tch. Pathetic. Wrap him up; we’ll try again in a few hours.” My abuser let go of my chin, my head dropping limply, and strode towards the door.

The guard hastily went to retrieve the cut rope. There wasn't enough length to span around my torso multiple times again, apparently, so he settled with looping it once around my chest and pulling it tight while knotting it. I let out a weak breath in protest. A scrap of cloth was shoved in my mouth. It tasted foul and dry, but at least it soaked up the blood. With that, I was left with only one guard and spots forming behind my eyelids. At least this time instead of blunt trauma, I was passing out from blood loss.

Or, I wished, anyway. As soon as my eyes closed, the remaining guard poured a cup of water on me, startling me awake. I don't even know where he got the water from I was so out of it. Regardless, I blinked away the liquid that ran into my eyes. Some of the water seeped into the gag, which would be a welcome relief to my dry mouth if it weren't for the salt it collected with it. I gave a weak cough, too worn out to bother actually trying to spit out the cloth.

Sighing through my nose, I leaned my head back against the table. The guard took a step forward as if to splash me again, but I stared him down, conveying both my awake-ness and irritation.

As far as torture goes, I supposed that wasn't too bad. My chest was hurt enough that some scarring would definitely occur, and of course the deeper knife wounds as well. The hole in my leg would take some time to heal up, especially if it remained untreated, which I suspected it would. Otherwise, I wasn't too worse for wear in the long run. As horrible as the salt was, it in fact did me a favor by cleaning the wounds. I wouldn't want to do it again, however. Ever.

My main concern was the bleeding. It had slowed, but not stopped, which was worrying. The jerk would not let me pass out and my body take care of itself, so I couldn't rely on rest. I really needed to stop the bleeding, but I wasn't sure how. The only way I could treat myself would be to escape, which seemed nigh impossible at this point. I sighed again.

Suddenly there was a noise outside the room; loud voices and clattering. It sounded like something heavy landed on the stairs. Both the guard and I perked up, straining our ears. He gripped the hilt of his sword tight and moved toward the exit. Another voice, closer this time, coming from one of the guards outside the door. “Intruder! Assassin!” he shouted, then the racket of a scuffle, thumping, and a loud bang against the door.

My heart picked up speed. Could it be…? No way. 

The guard drew his sword and positioned himself in front of the door. I strained to turn my body as much as I could manage, hoping against hope to get a glimpse of the situation. It was no use; the ropes kept me firmly facing a blank wall. Frustrated, I could only listen. The door swung open quickly and the guard in my room gave a shout. There was the sound of a sword connecting with flesh, then a gurgle and a heavy object fell to the ground. Then silence.

Alarm welled up inside me and my heart dropped into my stomach. No. No, this wasn't allowed to happen. He was supposed to rescue me! He was supposed to find me and save me, not get hit by some nameless pathetic guard by surprise. He couldn't die like that! It’s not fair! Altaïr-

“Malik?”

I blinked, not realizing my vision had gone blurry. What?

“Malik! Allah…”

The fuzzy features of Altaïr came into view right in front of me. I could make out a shaky grin creep its way across his face.

“Miss me?”


	7. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of serious talking. Malik could use some pain killers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta stop thinking up other story ideas while I’m still writing one.

Altaïr was quick to untie me. As soon as I was completely free I let out a sigh of relief before glaring at him.

“What took you so long?”

His smile was lopsided, as if he wasn’t sure if I was seriously angry at him or not. Idiot.

“It’s been a little less than a day,” he protested as he held out his hand, which I took without protest. We managed to get me into some semblance of a standing position then I slumped against him for a moment to rest. My joints creaked and my front was turning unpleasantly sticky, not to mention moving felt like I was tearing my skin open further. “Not to mention we had to find this place, which is in the middle of nowhere, and it’s swarming with Templar lackeys…”

I cocked an eyebrow. “We?”

Altaïr swung my arm over his shoulder and put a cautious hand on my waist to keep me steady. He asked if I could walk and when a few experimental steps proved that I could at least hobble with assistance, he answered me. “I came here with an assassin from the Jerusalem bureau. Some novice that knows the town well. Are you ready to leave?”

Well, at least he wasn’t stupid enough to charge in without backup. Wherever this supposed novice was had yet to be addressed. 

I levelled a rather impressive ‘you-have-to-be-kidding-me’ look. “Oh, no Altaïr, I like it here. I thought we might stay a while and take in the scenery while I continue to bleed out.”

He sighed and we started the slow trek to freedom. Every step made me wince, and the leg with the stab wound was dragging a bit. We couldn’t move faster than a slow walk, and I hated it. I felt like a dead weight, and damn it if I would be the reason we couldn’t make it out of here. My foot caught on the arm of my ex-guard, a large gash spilling his still-warm blood onto the floor and bulk of the guard from outside the door, which was laying half on top of him. I cursed under my breath as I stumbled.

A glance at me and Altaïr seemed to understand what I was thinking, because he shifted until most of my weight was supported on him. I would have complained but we moved a bit faster this way, so I swallowed my pride and let him help.

We made it up the stairs after nearly tripping over no less than three bodies. Altaïr pushed open a thin wooden door to reveal the interior of a house turned battle station. Furniture was shoved up against walls, maps and diagrams covered every flat surface, and a pile of weapons were stacked up against a bloodied wall. The only light came from between the slats on a small window and through the holes in the tattered cloth that was draped over a doorway. Two more presumable corpses blocked the way, blood staining their necks. He must have been really pissed.

After easing me against a table, Altaïr moved to drag the dead guards out of the way. I glanced at the papers beside me, but it was hard to focus on them. This was not boding well.

“Did you learn what they were planning?” I questioned, more out of a way to keep myself awake than actually caring.

The assassin grunted as he dropped the first man with a loud thud. “A little. They wanted information about the location of the treasure from Solomon’s Temple. They know that it was handed off to Al-Mualim, but beyond that they don’t- oof.” He paused to heave the other one onto his side. “They don’t know. It would seem they were planning to raid Masayaf once they found out. I’m guessing they were hiring mercenaries to give them overpowering numbers.”

I shook my head while he returned to supporting me. “Not quite. They might have used them like that eventually, but that was not the initial purpose.”

The curtain was drawn back to reveal a setting sun. A few more dead guards scattered the area, including the rooftop which we were currently on. We were apparently in one of the few two story buildings in this town, although I assumed the door on the ground level was blocked off as another precaution against my escape.

“They hired from Jerusalem specifically to draw our attention. They not only knew that Al-Mualim had the treasure, they also knew who went on that mission.”

He turned his head sharply to look at me. I continued on, ignoring his burning eyes.

“I’m not sure if they recognized you, but that knight knew me right away. They even knew I was in charge of the Jerusalem bureau. That is why they were so close. They were ordered to capture and interrogate me, and they were willing to wait until I was sent out to investigate their activity.”

A heavy sigh left him. “That makes sense. They won’t be trying that again, hopefully. We took out the leader who captured you earlier, and several of the men he was consorting with. I had the novice steal their plans.”

"What a shame. He was such a charming man."

Altaïr snorted. He stopped at the edge of the roof and looked around at the ground. I took the opportunity to allow myself a small smile. He was definitely not the same Altaïr from training days, who would rush in just to kill something. Not to mention I was quite pleased I wouldn’t have to deal with the asshole in the armor talking at me anymore.

He whistled at someone in the shadows, and I saw a young man leading two horses over to us. I had to scrutinize the lad because I swore I recognized him, although I wasn’t sure from where. Altaïr removed my arm from around his shoulders and gestured for me to climb down first. Pain shot up my leg, but I managed to get down without falling. My cohort made his quick descent and we came to the next obstacle of mounting the horses.

After a bit of debate it was agreed that I would ride with Altaïr, and by debate I mean he shot the eager novice a glare and led his horse over to me, subtly using it to block the younger man’s view as well. I snickered and leaned my head against the animal’s withers. The glare turned into a look of concern.

“Are you alright, Malik?”

I waved him off. “No. But there’s not much we can do about that here.” I looked down at my red torso then stood straight. This was going to hurt. “You’re going to have to get on first. I can’t balance on my own.”

He pressed his lips together but nodded anyway and did as he was told. He held out his arm to me which I gratefully took. Getting on was painful and took a lot of effort on both our parts. Somehow I managed to swing my leg over the backside of the steed and settle into place behind Altaïr. The novice looked on fretfully, but climbed onto his horse as well and off we went into the darkening landscape.

The village streets were almost entirely empty, and not a single Templar rushed out to stop us. I contemplated the possibility that those two had killed them all, but it seemed more likely that with the people in charge dead, the others deserted.

Clinging onto Altaïr was about as painful as I predicted. I was mostly raw as it was, and having his robes and assorted weapon straps rub at my wounds every so often was not helpful. Luckily delirium was setting in to save the day.

“Altaïr,” I mumbled into his shoulder. “You should strip when we get back home.”

He tensed up and glanced at the novice riding beside us, then looked back at me. “W-what?”

“You should take off your clothes. I’m bleeding all over them. They’re going to get stained.”

“Malik…” The stiffness left his shoulders, but he still sounded worried. “You shouldn’t worry about that.”

I shook my head, clutching tighter to his uniform. “No, I have to. You don’t do your laundry properly. They’re going to be ruined forever. Blood has to be rinsed out right away or it will stain, stupid novice.”

“I have more-”

“Just shut up and do as I say,” I attempted to growl at him. It came off sounding almost as weak as I felt. His back rose and fell underneath me as he sighed.

“Okay, Malik.”

Satisfied, I rested my head on the back of his shoulder. The bouncing of the horse bothered me a little, but I was in a comfortable enough position. I caught a smile on the novice’s face after hearing our conversation. I gave him a long disapproving squint, to which he quickly dropped the smile and looked away. Suddenly I remembered where I’d seen him before.

“You’re that idiot that lost his feather.”

He looked back at me, surprised. “Ah, uh, yes, sir. I didn’t think you would remember me.”

I snorted. “Of course I would remember you. You came in nearly every day and would not leave me alone.” A faint blush crept onto his cheeks, and I could feel Altaïr bristle.

I hummed, thinking on it a little. “You seemed eager and impatient. It reminds me of a young Altaïr.”

“R-really?” He practically beamed with pride at being likened to the great master assassin.

“It’s not a compliment,” Altaïr chimed in grimly. The novice looked both disappointed and confused, but neither of us offered up an explanation. Shortly afterwards my eyelids drooped and I was no longer up for conversation. The stars were beginning to come out so I focused on those instead, listening to the pounding of hooves and feeling the steady beat of the heart against my cheek.

///

A cold wet cloth was being pressed against my forehead. I wasn’t sure when I became aware of the sensation, but I didn’t bother opening my eyes. It felt nice on my hot skin. I felt a small draft bring attention to my lack of clothing aside from a thin pair of pants and many bandages. There certainly were a lot; my chest and abdomen were bound to the point where I wondered if I was indeed wearing a shirt. A thick bandage covered the wound on my leg, and even my arms had been tended to.

Eventually I gathered up the will to open my eyes. My view was partially blocked by the hand that gently wiped sweat and dirt from my face. I slid my eyes to the side and saw Altaïr concentrated on his work. He was dressed down as well, the sleeves of his white shirt pushed up and a simple sash holding up his pants. I had of course seen him without his hood, but he wore it so often it was still worthy of a double-take to make sure it was him. But with his scarred lip and the furrow in his brows he gets whenever he's focused were unmistakable.

He spared me a glance to let me know he was aware I was awake before looking back to his cleaning. After a moment my gaze wandered to the ceiling, trying to place it. I opened my mouth to speak only to have my throat clench up and cough. Altaïr set the rag down and hurriedly grabbed a bowl of water off to the side. He helped me raise my upper half enough to take a sip, which is how I found out my wounds were quite tender.

I pushed the bowl away and laid back down once I wet my mouth enough. My voice was still a little hoarse, but I could talk. "Where are we?"

"Jerusalem," Altaïr replied quietly, as if he didn't wish to overpower my weak tone. He returned the bowl to its place and resumed cleaning my jaw and neck. "A safe house, more precisely. We couldn't get you into the bureau without jostling you, and this place is better medically equipped anyway."

"Oh." I stared at the tan ceiling mindlessly, watching dust drift in the sunlight. It was either early morning or afternoon judging by the warm orange and yellow hues. I absentmindedly noted that my head hurt, a couple of my bandages itched, and the water on the rag had lost its coolness.

Altaïr stopped to fix the latter problem, which I took as an opportunity to turn my head to him. He paused as we caught each other's eye.

What seemed like a year of silence passed before I pried open my dry lips and croaked out "thank you."

He kept still, sparing a single blink. He reached out and felt my forehead with his warm hand. "Do you have a fever?"

I narrowed my eyes and pushed his hand away. "Do I thank you so little that you think there is something wrong with me when I do? Maybe that is a sign that you should work harder."

A small smile tugged briefly at his lips, but shone in his eyes. "Of course, Malik," he said, ignoring my quip and fetching the drinking bowl again. "I wouldn't just leave you with those Templars. What did they ever do to deserve that?"

"If I could I would have you thrown into a pile of camel shit," I deadpanned. I took the offered water eagerly, finishing it off. "But you took your sweet time and let them use me as whipping practice, so playing servant boy until I am well shall be punishment enough."

He frowned at the mention of the whip. "Fair enough. So, does his highness feel up to eating?"

I rubbed my bruised throat in contemplation. "I think it will be a diet of water for me for a while. Anything more will be a pain in the ass."

"Right," he agreed, eyes locked on the fingerprints. I stopped moving and he looked up at me. In that moment I was appreciative of his lack of hood; his eyes were full of expression. I could see the concern and worry for my well-being, the flare of anger at whoever did this, the need to protect and covet. The strongest emotion I could sense was an overwhelming attachment directed at me, something that went beyond fondness for a friend in need. He was like an open book ready for me to read, and I took in every word.

I understood suddenly his disappointment before, when we had started the mission and I dismissed my urges for him. He honestly felt for me and had used that drug-induced night to catalyze something between us. It wasn't that he had been hoping he was so irresistible that it caused me to give myself up to him, but that there had been a similar inclination from me that drove me to accept his offer. But here I had rejected him more times than I could count.

I felt incredibly stupid for not realizing it before. Such is the nature of hindsight.

"So stupid," I mumbled to myself. At first I hadn't realized I said it out loud, but when Altaïr pulled back in shock I knew. I hastened to correct my mistake. "Ah, I meant-" I was cut off by a fit of coughs. My throat felt as if hot rocks were rolling down into my lungs, taking my voice with them.

Altaïr rushed to poor me more water. I staved off coughing long enough to drink and ease the soreness. He rubbed small, reassuring circles into my back, while I drained the water again. I handed the bowl back and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. The fit took a lot out of me, and also snapped me out of the moment. Seeds of doubt sprang up in my head. There was the potential I was reading too deep into things and there was another reason altogether for his behavior. There was only one way to know for sure, though. I reigned in my panting breaths.

"Altaïr, I have to ask you about that night you and I were together."

He seemed to have a little trouble following my train of thoughts. "Why? Are you saying it was stupid?"

I shook my head. This was going to get awkward to explain. "No. I've just been thinking and... Well it seems like you had- have- ulterior motives. Both for what you did and the way you’ve been acting. I didn't consider until just now the possibility that you might... like me?"

It sounded foreign coming out of my mouth, like saying it out loud somehow made it less significant. 

Altaïr blanked. "So you thought me having feelings for you would be stupid."

"I didn't mean to say stupid-"

"Another word then?" He was getting worked up. "What did you mean? Pathetic? Unwanted? Disgusting? What Malik?"

"No," I wheezed out. I could slap myself. This was going downhill fast and my voice was failing me from overuse. All I could do was shake my head and hope another coughing fit didn't come on as I reached out to him. Unfortunately my silence was, again, filling in an answer for me.

Altaïr tightened his jaw and nodded. He stood up and out of my reach, pushing the stool beside the bed back. "In that case you should rest some more. If you need anything I'll be in the next room."

He briskly walked out, cloth curtain flapping as he tossed it aside to leave. I looked on in frustration and pain in my chest before flipping back onto the bed. I balled up a fist and slammed it into the cushions beneath me. It didn't make a satisfying enough impact, so I did it again and again.

Why did this have to happen? It seemed like fate was conspiring against me. I guess I had my answer, though. I didn't read him wrong at all; he definitely cared about me. The level of hurt and how easily he feared rejection made me want to shout. Not at him, but in general. I didn't hate him for it, I never would. How could I? The fact that I was the cause of that pain felt worse than the physical wounds covering my body.


	8. Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hero worship is strong in this one. Also, Malik hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is nearly here! I’m so proud of the length. This chapter is a bit lacking compared to the others, but I wanted the novice to share a bit of screen time, and I think it nicely highlights Malik’s transition from wanting Altaïr gone to ‘how dare you leave.’

Three days passed since the dispute. It was hard to keep track as I kept slipping in and out of consciousness. I couldn’t explain my epiphany to Altaïr in the meantime either; he never seemed to be around when I was awake. At one point I asked one of the assistants changing my bandages where he was. They didn’t know, but told me he visited often, usually after I’d gone to sleep.

So he was avoiding me then. I couldn’t really blame him, but it pissed me off that he was purposely checking up on me during the times when I couldn’t speak. Unfortunately it was my last day in the safe house, so I couldn’t do much about it at the moment.

I was guided back to the bureau, given plenty of bandages and medicines, given the usual speech about not straining myself, and left alone. Not for very long, however, because right after I bid my substitute farewell a certain novice dropped in.

“Safety and peace, sir,” he chimed from the doorway. “How are you feeling?”

I raised an eyebrow at the young man, pausing in my rearranging of the odds and ends beneath my counter. “I was whipped, cut, beaten, stabbed, and overall tortured. I have only just been able to get out of bed. Obviously by now I am fine.”

The cheerful smile on his face wilted. “Sorry, Dai.”

I couldn’t stand that kicked puppy look. Maybe I was getting too soft. I waved a hand dismissively. “Thank you, nonetheless. The way I hear it, I would have been there a lot longer if it weren’t for you.”

He looked down at his feet, a little bit of pride and embarrassment coloring his face. “Well, it wasn’t much. I just happened to be there when Master Altaïr came back to the bureau alone, and he looked like he was getting ready to take on an army. I told him I knew the area really well, and he’d probably need backup, so…”

“Let me guess. He fought tooth and nail to be the only one to go.”

The novice chuckled. “Yes, actually. He was quite against me going, but in the end I guess he figured we would have a better chance at rescuing you if there were two of us.”

I smirked. “Typical Altaïr. Well, I am glad you came when you did. A minute longer and I probably would not be talking to you right now.”

He humbly bowed his head. It was probably his first real situation where the fate of a comrade hung on his shoulders. It was a pretty sobering feeling, so I left him to it.

The substitute, while trustworthy, had left a few things the way he preferred them to be organized. It was a bit annoying having to put the knives back under the counter and return the maps to their places in the bookshelf. A box of spare quills was stuffed up on a top shelf, completely not where they were normally kept. I reached up to grab them when a sharp pain struck my chest. I let out a small sound of protest and quickly retracted my arm, placing my hand over the uncomfortable spot. It felt as if my skin was too tight, stretched taut across a bed of nails.

Suddenly the novice was behind me, grabbing the box himself. He was practically pressed against my back in order to reach it, but took a step back and offered the retrieved item. “Here it is. Please don’t strain yourself, sir.”

“I am not an old man,” I grumbled, but accepted the box and placed it on the counter with a sigh. “I suppose I am not quite healed enough yet to be moving around like that. What a nuisance.”

The novice averted his eyes and played with his fingers. “Um, Dai… if it’s too much of a bother, I could, perhaps, help out around here. Just for the things that are a trouble, and only until you’re well enough, that is!”

I leaned my elbow against the counter and looked him up and down. Although flustered about his request, he seemed sincere enough. Once or twice someone would stupidly volunteer as an aide when I first lost my arm, despite me being able to compensate for it, but with my other arm restricted as well it could potentially be helpful to have him around. “What about your missions?”

His face showed that he hadn’t even thought about that. “I-I can help in between missions! If that’s okay with you.” His eyes were bright and pleading. He really was like Altaïr; a puppy. It made me smirk inside.

“Alright, fine,” I assented. “Your first order of business is to sweep up the main room. It is a mess.”

“Yes, Dai,” he chirped. The novice grabbed the broom from beside the bookcase and began his work. I smiled and continued filing things away.

The day went peacefully after that. Every now and then I went off to nap, leaving the cleaning to the novice. He didn’t seem to mind at all, and encouraged me to relax, to which I would remind him that I was an assassin so relaxing was impossible. Although I was vaguely enjoying the company of another, it irked me that the person I wanted to see hadn’t come by yet.

The next day I was mindlessly taking inventory while the novice took down boxes for me to go through when he surprisingly brought it up.

“Master Malik? Forgive me if it’s none of my business but… Did you have a fight with Master Altaïr or something?”

I stiffened. “What makes you say that?”

He set a wooden chest down at his feet and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I was wandering around a bit last night, waiting for an informant to return. We had agreed to meet near the bureau and I had arrived early, so I was simply walking on the rooftops to pass the time and when I looked over at the bureau I saw him leave. He seemed rather upset and kept pacing back and forth before eventually running off. I haven’t seen him at all since we brought you back, not to mention you have been kind of quiet lately, so I just thought…” He trailed off. 

“Are you sure it was him?” I frowned. I had been sound asleep all night, and when I woke up the grate was still in place. It hadn’t been locked, but I wrote that off as my own carelessness.

The novice nodded. “Yes. I saw a bit of his face in the moonlight. The scar was there and everything.” He paused a moment to recall the memory fondly before thinking about the implications of my question. “Er, did you not have him visit you?”

I stared blankly at my list of inventory, thinking. “Do not worry about it, it is fine.” He was still coming by when he was sure I wouldn’t notice, that coward. I absolutely had to talk to him, though. I was healthy enough to be resting less, so I decided I would catch him in the act. Hopefully he wouldn’t run away before I had the chance to talk to him.

The novice peered at me sideways, but said no more, thank goodness. I was not about to explain to him the complicated relationship Altaïr and I currently had. Instead he changed the subject to something only slightly different.

“So, uh, sir,” he began, maneuvering the lid off of the crate he had set down. “How long have you known Master Altaïr? You two seem to be… good friends.”

I snorted. “I have known him since we were young. We grew up together in the Order. But we were hardly friends.”

He blinked up at me. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” I returned my attention to my list and shrugged, recounting the stock I had been trying to log before. “We were more like rivals. I absolutely hated him.”

Carefully pulling out a vase, the novice scrunched his eyebrows. “Huh. Do you… do you still hate him?”

I marked down a number and settled my gaze on the novice. I certainly did not hate him with the same passion of my youth, possibly quite the opposite. But his digging was starting to drag forth memories that I did not wish to relive. “No. You are quite nosey, novice. Do not overstep your bounds.”

“Ah, sorry!” he exclaimed. In his sudden hurry to apologize the vase slipped from his hands, shattering on the floor. He clamped the sides of his head with his hands. “Sorry! Again!”

Shaking my head I sighed, moving to grab the broom. “One less thing to catalog I suppose. Here, clean it up.” I thrust the broom at him, which he shakily accepted. “Try not to drop any more. Those were gifts from the Rafiq of Damascus.”

He nodded vigorously and mumbled another apology as he swept.

I hit him on the head. “Stop apologizing so much as well. I take back what I said before, you are nothing like Altaïr.”

I started to turn to stroll back to the counter when I realized what I had said. The words sunk in and I felt my body grow heavy. I had only meant that younger Altaïr would never apologize often, but it brought my thoughts to when I had feverishly compared him and the novice. Altaïr’s broad back and warm heartbeat were a comforting presence, even if the journey was painful. I felt a wave of yearning and emptiness settle over me like a damp rag. He was not here in front of me for me to berate him, or snark at him, or correct him. Despite the novice being here I missed him. He was only in my presence fleetingly the past few days, and even then half the time we were arguing. I was tired of fighting. I just wanted to reconcile and be able to relax around him once more.

The novice stopped the broom and frowned in concern. “Is everything alright?”

Sluggishly I stalked behind the counter, flinging the curtain separating my quarters from the bureau aside. “Finish sweeping, novice. I am going to sleep for a bit.”


	9. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik is such a fangirl.

Night fell and my plan set into motion. The candles had been blown out, I laid there quietly with my eyes closed, and no one had been in the bureau for over an hour. As the silence carried on I began wondering if he would come at all.

That would be just perfect. I already went through the trouble of staying up for him while I was on the mend, the least he could do was come and hear me out. I had to explain what I had been trying to say to him, stop him from thinking a lie. He would not be allowed to leave this room until I told him how I didn’t hate him, and I wasn’t disgusted by his feelings towards me; I absolutely had to convince him…

I twisted the corner of my mouth down. Convince him of what? If I didn’t refuse his feelings, was I returning them? I hadn’t thought too much about that. I was more focused on getting him to not be mad at me.

What exactly would I say? I hadn’t actually hashed that part out either. Well, to start with I probably had to apologize. He’d been thinking for the past three days that I thought he was an idiot for having a crush. Clarifying that I had called myself stupid would be a blow to my pride, but one that I could live with. I understood that he was attracted to me, and I felt the same in that regard.

I shouldn’t tell him that. That would be ridiculous.

I frowned. Okay, so maybe he was kind of attractive. It seemed pointless by now to not admit it, at least to myself. Between his intense gaze and cat-like movements, close proximity to him was a hazard to the heart rate. He probably already knew that, though. It felt a bit obvious, especially after he walked in on me doing such lewd… Well. If he didn’t understand that, then he was an idiot.

But besides that, I would have to correct him on his misjudgment of me. If I had known that the advances were because he had deeper feelings for me, I would have not been so quick to dismiss them. I couldn’t entirely say I hated everything we did so many nights ago, although I did despise the method that it came about. I didn’t want him gone or anything of the sort, plus having him be a pouty mess was a hassle.

What if he wanted to become lovers, though? That would just be asking for trouble. Which, of course, he would thrill in.

I entertained the idea in my head for a bit. After years of our strange rivalry and friendship, it would be a bit odd to be tied together as lovers. He wasn’t horrible to be around, per se. There was a certain charm to his playful obnoxiousness. Charisma underneath layers of thick-headedness. Of course it was hard to imagine us doing cheesy couple-type things like holding hands and feeding each other. It would probably be more like pulling arrows out of each other’s shoulders and hiding from guards in the same rooftop garden. Romantic things like that.

I burrowed my face in my pillow, willing myself not to smile in amusement. Regardless of planning and wistful fantasies, the conversation might not even get that far. He could just walk away, and I would be stuck right where I was before. I was still very sore, and running after him would open up a wound and cause more trouble than good. I just had to get my point across as quickly as possible.

A calloused hand brushed against the nape of my neck and my eyes snapped open. He was here. He was here and I was not ready.

I tried to take a mental calming breath before turning my head. Blue light leaked in from the doorway and a small unshuttered window to illuminate the figure. Altaïr was standing over me, dressed in his usual robes with his hood pulled up. His eyes were shrouded in shadow, but I could just barely see his mouth pulled into a lopsided frown. He quickly drew back his hand.

“Hello, Altaïr,” I croaked out. I cleared my throat, embarrassed, and pushed myself to sit upright.

He started to reach forward to help, but thought twice and let his arm rest by his side. “You were making faces in your sleep.”

I turned my head away and grimaced. “Is that so?” He managed to sneak in even when I wasn’t asleep this time. I had been too absorbed in my thoughts. If I had known he was in the room I would’ve stopped the stupid expressions and confronted him sooner. Damn his soft steps.

Altaïr pursed his lips before stepping back. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll go now.”

“Ah, wait!” He paused. I hadn’t fully expected him to actually stop, but I was relieved. Now if only I remembered what it was I wanted to say. “Don’t go. Not yet. I have something I want to say.”

His hands clenched. “I think you have already made your point. That is why I haven’t bothered you these past few days.”

I frowned. “That is not fair, Altaïr. You have been creeping around without giving me a chance to explain things. If I wanted you gone, do you not think I would have said so?”

He tilted his head to the side, wary. “You do not like me, but you don’t want me to leave?” he asked cautiously.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Stop jumping to conclusions like that. Give me a chance to talk. At least this time I am not hacking up a lung.” I patted the space beside me on the bed. It was getting annoying having to look up at him. I would rather us be on equal levels for this.  
Taking a sidelong glance at me, Altaïr slowly moved over and sank onto the cushions. He was clearly edgy, so I tried to be less hostile.

“First of all, I do not hate you. Sure, you can be stubborn, annoying, loud…” Less hostile, I reminded myself. “But you make up for that. On occasion.”

He nodded, although his expression said he was just the slightest bit offended. I continued.  
“In regards to how you think of me… was I correct?”

Altaïr crossed his arms. “It depends on what you think I feel.”  
I narrowed my eyes then sighed. I was very certain at this point, but I’d been hoping to hear it straight from him. “If I am not mistaken, your intentions are of the romantic inclination.”

“Perhaps.”

My word he was infuriating. “Fine. I am not… disgusted or anything. If that is really how you feel, then am not one to judge. That is entirely up to you.”

He uncrossed his arms and shifted in his seat. “You don’t think it is stupid or pathetic?”

I rolled my eyes. “No! When I said that I was talking about how oblivious I have been for not even considering it,” I said exasperatedly.

“You didn’t think,” he said slowly, “that I flirted with you, tried to show my interest in any way I could, did all those things with you, tracked down those Templars before even reporting anything, waded through who knows how many guards to save you, checked up on you to make sure you’re recovering well despite thinking you did not want anything to do with me, and even bothered to drag along that stupid obsessed novice who practically drools all over you with his obvious puppy crush… you didn’t think I do all these things because I love you?”

I froze up, although my face was feeling hot. I figured he liked me, but love? That was a bit stronger than I expected. It made me feel even more of an idiot to not realize he cared so deeply.

Altaïr processed my reaction and turned to face me fully. I could not see if his cheeks were as red as mine felt, but I could see him set his jaw in determination. His hands curled in his lap betrayed the slightest hint of nerves as he opened his mouth to speak. “Malik, I love you.”

My heart swelled in my chest. His confession was open and genuine, and warmth wormed it’s way through my body. I felt like my emotions would overflow and physically drown me. Damn him for doing this to me. I couldn’t take it anymore and reacted on instinct.

With a low curse I reached out and threw off his stupid hood, then gripped the back of his neck and forced him forward so I could see into his eyes. They were wide, shocked, and a little confused, but vibrant.

“Malik?” he asked uncertainly.

I glared at him. “Altaïr. I hate you.” I then brought my face down to his, colliding with his lips in a rough kiss that swallowed up anything he was going to say. My lips were dry and his were partially open in shock. It was ugly and little more than crushing our faces together, but all I could think was finally. After wrestling with the desire for what seemed like a lifetime I finally did it. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders and I could relax.

After a moment I felt him pull back, so I immediately let go of his neck and looked at anything but him. I silently thanked the darkness for hiding my flushed face.

He let out a breath. “Well. I take it that means you don’t hate me.”

I pouted. “Perhaps,” I grumbled, echoing his words. He laughed.

“Malik,” he whispered, leaning close.

“What?” I spat, turning my head to look. His golden eyes were sparkling, and he had a smile that nearly took my breath away.

“You are adorable.”

“Idiot,” I growled. I shoved his shoulder with my hand. “There. I told you what I wanted to tell you. Are you happy now?”

“Quite.” His smiled didn’t fade one bit. “Although I’d be happier if you told me in words precisely how you feel.”

I rolled my eyes and looked away, lamenting on my lack of ability to cross my arms. “Was that not obvious enough for you? Tsk. Novice.”

He hummed in response, drawing a knee up to rest his arm on it. “Well, the last time you didn’t say anything, there was a huge misjudgment and confusion. Besides, just a day ago I thought you were repulsed by me, yet here you are kissing me out of the blue. Forgive me but the whiplash does require a bit more clarification.”

“You’re right, I suppose,” I sighed wearily and leaned against him. He was a bit surprised, but made no move to push me off. “I’ve been thinking about it for some time now. Quite a lot, in fact. I have come to the conclusion that you are not totally disagreeable. I… may or may not feel something along the same lines as you.”

“Malik, that was about as vague of a response as you could get.”

I let out a single satirical laugh. He was right; I was completely avoiding saying it, if only because I had just caught up to myself and didn’t want to say something I wasn’t sure I meant. But while I wasn’t able to say I love you with the same conviction he had, there was something else I could confirm. 

“I like you, Altaïr. A lot.”

Altaïr moved his hand down to find mine, entangling our fingers. He held our hands aloft and stared at them a moment, and I did the same. It was a simple gesture that held the weight of profound meaning behind it and sent a shiver down my spine.

“I know,” he purred.

I held his hand tighter. “Shut up and kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter-chapter! I hope you stick around for the epilogue, but it’s of course not required. Thank you so much to all my readers and anyone who has put in the effort to fav, kudo, or even comment/leave a review! You guys are my lifeblood. And of course my *coughlazycough* lovely assistant RainbowSkittles - I literally could not have written this mess without you.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Totally not a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, this is the end. I still can’t believe I finished a story, oneshots notwithstanding. This was a heck of a write, and I am so glad I did it. It has kept my interest in both writing and this ship alive. Some parts of it I still cringe at, others make me want to hide in a cave for a thousand years, and a few I am damn proud of. Once again thank you to everyone who left reviews, favs or kudos, or even read it! And a huge thank you to anyone who has been with it since the beginning way too long ago, if you don’t hate me by now. I did say I take forever to write. ^^;

“For the last time, Altaïr, quit calling it a date!”

“It’s just you and me, going out together, alone, shopping. I call that a date.”

I huffed and rolled my eyes as I put the last of my things into a knapsack. Ever since I asked him to go to the market with me that morning he was giddily calling it our “first date.” I had only asked him since he had spent the night, not to mention it was his fault I had to go shopping in the first place.

“This is hardly a date. We are replacing my ink that- need I remind you- you spilled.”

Altaïr pouted. “It’s not like I meant to. I was more focused on… other things.”

He looked away sheepishly and the air became awkward. Neither of us wanted to bring up the time I accidentally ingested aphrodisiacs, since that night was full of mistakes and seemed to only lead to fighting. However, after many tremulous events that tested our bond, some of which almost broke us apart, here we were no longer just friends, but lovers.

I still felt like I was floating on air, and the previous night’s confessions seemed like a dream. I had yet to properly respond to Altaïr’s serious “I love you,” but that didn’t matter to him. I had said it in my own way which was good enough for the both of us. Although I didn’t dare utter the word ‘lovers’ for fear he might explode. Seemingly every affection or acknowledgment I gave him made him overcome with joy.

“Come on then. We should hurry up while it’s still early morning,” I finally said, tucking my bag under my arm. He nodded and eagerly tagged along behind me.

///

There was a thin crowd in the marketplace as I inspected the wares at a stall. I was waiting on the seller to wrap up the bottles of ink, which he did so after begrudgingly accepting my offer of almost half of what he was selling them for. I haggled with him all the time, but he did have the best ink. Altaïr had his back to us, busying himself by communicating his boredom to me through a complex series of sighs, foot-taps, nudges, and whines.

“I should have stayed in bed. This is so uninteresting,” he complained, leaning against the stall’s support.

“I hold no sympathy for you,” I muttered, preoccupied with an ornate vial. He gave me a withering look, which I ignored. He shrugged in surrender and straightened, brushing off his robes.

“I’m going to get us breakfast. Do you want anything in particular?”

“Whatever you grab is fine.”

Altaïr walked past me, subtly brushing my hand as he went. I shot him a look, both of appreciation and warning, which he smiled at. Soon he disappeared around a corner, just in time for the shopkeeper to hand me my purchase. I had hoped to make Altaïr pay for it with his own money, but bringing me a meal should suffice. Then again, the last time he surprised me with food I ended up hot and bothered for the rest of the day. Hopefully this time he would get it from an actual merchant.

Since he would be returning soon anyway, I loitered around the stalls, peering at the interesting items. This early in the morning there weren’t too many open, so it became boring quickly. Just as I was about to follow the road Altaïr had taken to see if I could catch up, I spotted a scantily clad woman slinking towards me.

She had bags under her eyes, her chestnut-colored hair stuck out around her head, and her worn out clothes were covered in dark stains. It looked like she didn’t want to be awake any more than Altaïr had, if not less so. Like an idiot I stood there and waited for her, perhaps because I was interested as to how a woman so tired could still be standing, or perhaps because I had nothing better to do. When she reached me she leaned heavily against a building, but still managed to pull her lips into a seductive smile.

“Well hello there, handsome,” she cooed. “What has you out and about so early in the morning?”  
I snorted. “I could ask the same of you. Shouldn’t you be out in the afternoon, when there are more potential customers?”

She frowned. “A girl’s gotta eat, mister.” Like flipping a switch, her smile returned and she batted her eyes. “What do you say? Want some breakfast?” She punctuated the question with a suggestive wiggle of her hips.

I was about to turn her down when Altaïr rounded the corner, almost bumping into us.

“Ah, Malik! I found some weird fruit this guy in an alley was selling and I thought we could share- oh, hello again.” Altaïr suddenly noticed the prostitute and inclined his head in recognition. I could feel a headache coming on as I looked from him to the surprised woman.

“O-oh, hello!” She squinted at him then put a hand to her chest and smiled. “You’re that dashing fellow who runs by my street all the time. Did you enjoy the food I gave you?”

My jaw dropped. She was the one who gave him that cursed food!? I fumed. Before I could say anything Altaïr spoke up.

“Yes, it was delicious. Thank you.”

The harlot appeared a little confused, more so than I was, but nodded anyway. Altaïr seemed to sense my mounting anger, since he placed a hand on my shoulder and began gently but forcefully guiding me away.

“Sorry to go so soon, but we should be on our way. Goodbye,” he stated amicably and turned to lead me quickly through the streets, not even sparing a glance back to watch her bid us farewell, still in a state of confusion.

Once we were back in the bureau I carefully set my new ink on the counter then swiveled on Altaïr. He backed up, hands in the air.

“Now Malik, calm down. I didn’t know we would run into her.” He offered up the fruit he bought, and when I still marched furiously toward him, he pocketed it for later. “It’s not like she did it to be mean! She didn’t even know you were the one who ended up eating it.”

I grabbed ahold of his collar as he continued stepping backward. His back hit the wall and he nervously placed his hands over my fist. “I never even slept with her, or any prostitute for that matter! Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Idiot,” I growled. “Who said I was mad at you?”

He blinked. “But-“

I cut him off by kissing him aggressively. I took advantage of his surprise and slipped my tongue inside. He seemed to get the gist of it at that point and returned the favor. One hand slipped from mine to cup my face, and the other wandered down my arm to my back. I bit his lip and tugged on his collar, to which he pulled me flush against his chest. Pressed against each other like this I melted. The warmth had me relaxing into him and the anger started to seep away. I smiled against his lips and slowed down to caress them softly, enjoying the feel of him. Unclenching my fist from his collar, I brought my hand to the nape of his neck and ran my fingers through the short hair there. He hummed appreciatively while rubbing small circles into my back with his thumb.

Feeling satisfied, I drew back. Altaïr opened his eyes, still very bewildered but pleased.

“What was that for and how do I make it happen again?”

“Tch.” I slapped him lightly upside his head and walked behind the counter, feeling much more at ease. “It was nothing you did, idiot.”

He followed me while rubbing the back of his head. I busied myself with carefully setting the new ink in a box underneath the counter, where they would be less likely to get broken or spilled. He patiently waited in silence, which was new for him. I sighed and sneered at the air.

“Seeing that prostitute pissed me off. She tried poisoning you to get you to sleep with her, and I was the one who ended up paying for it!”

Altaïr shrugged a shoulder. “Well, technically it wasn’t poison…”

I resisted the urge to hit him again and instead glared while pulling out a half-finished map. “Regardless, she had malicious intentions and her actions caused us both to suffer. She wanted to sleep with you bad enough to drug you even though she is…” I took a breath to calm down. “The point is I do not like her. Both for what she did and the reasons behind it.”

Altaïr smiled and strode behind me, encircling my waist with his arms. He rested his chin on my shoulder, giving my head a small nuzzle as he did so. “That is understandable. However you do know that no matter what that woman tries, or anyone for that matter, I will choose you a hundred times over?”

A dash of heat came to my cheeks at the cliché words and I swatted him. “Yes, yes. I am preferable to a prostitute. I get it.” Before he could correct me I turned my head and placed a quick kiss on his jaw. “Now shoo. Al Mualim probably has a new mission for you, and you should leave before you get us both in trouble.”

“But Malik, I wish to stay here with you,” he whined and deliberately held me tighter, which caused some discomfort with my wounds. I frowned and tapped his arm. He realized what I meant after a second and peeled off his arms.

“No buts. I am still healing and you have work to do. Besides, if another assassin came in and saw you draping yourself all over me my reputation as an intimidating Rafiq would be ruined.”

He pouted, but reluctantly crossed his arms and agreed. He turned to leave, but suddenly swiveled on his heel and leaned forward with a cheeky grin. “Kiss goodbye?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No, novice.”

“Pretty please? I will not leave until you do.”

I rolled my eyes, although I sensed he was very likely to actually do so. “Fine,” I relented, then indulged him with a light peck. He was as pleased as a cat that had caught its prey.

"One more."

"Leave, idiot."

He laughed and waltzed out the door. “I love you,” he called back.

“I don’t hate you,” I returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. What Altair said about no woman coming between them; this does NOT mean I hate Maria and think he shouldn't be with her. I barely even know Maria. Either way, it's my headcanon that Alty is bi and polyamorous, so even if he met her in this story she wouldn't "get in the way."

**Author's Note:**

> This is on FF as well, just slowly transferring my preferred works over to here~ You can find me under the same username there, but oh god, my older stories are such crap so please don't look. ;3;  
> Fair warning for anyone who hasn't followed my stories before, I'm one of those writers who has erratic updates, but I feel really guilty about leaving a story when I like it so I will eventually update! Promise! ;3


End file.
